Hah. Thanks for your praise, guys. I'll try to keep the updates coming. 
Vann: Wouldn't YOU like to know?
Jacob was ready when they came. He had married in the year and a half since Roosevelt had taken an effortless victory in ’36. His wife, Susan, was a sweet girl with golden curls and a beautiful face and she had a political head on her, too. Jacob had met her, fittingly enough, on Roosevelt’s staff. However, despite all her nice qualities, he really only married her for show. Voters always preferred a married man to a single one, for some reason, and his wedding to such a lovely young woman was no hardship for him.
Susan and he had been expecting them, and had made a much larger dinner then just the two of them could possibly manage to eat, but their visitors didn’t seem to mind. Both were dressed very well, Jacob in a suit and Susan in a spectacular blue dress. Which seemed to be made from the very essence of a thousand sapphires – borrowed, of course, for the occasion.
They shook hands at the door, Jacob smiling charismatically and welcoming them in, Susan taking their coats. It was three elderly gentlemen and a younger, middle-aged one. They looked like the heads of some corporation, and indeed, one of them was.
“Jacob! How long has it been? A year?” The younger of them said as he took Jacob’s offered hand in both of his and shook it excitedly.
“A year and a half, but it doesn’t feel that long, does it?” Jacob said idly, still smiling. “Finally out of that awful depression at last! Say, Susan has just about finished making dinner, I’m glad you stopped by. Maybe you’d like to join us?”
“Well, truth is, we’d love to, and perhaps we will. However, we didn’t come by just to say ‘Hi,’ I’m sure you understand. Well, I suppose we can explain it over dinner, right boys?” Said the eldest man, in a brown suit with a red tie, looking to the others. They all nodded vigorously, and soon were sitting down to eat.
“So, in ’36 we got you to know you and Susan very well, even though you weren’t married at the time – ah, congratulations by the way!” Began the elderly man again. Susan smiled a gorgeous smile and crinkled her nose in reply. She was born for politics, thought Jacob. “And anyway, we know you’re interested in politics – and though you’re young, we think you’d be the perfect candidate for the democratic ticket for Maryland for senate!”
Jacob was silent for a moment as though surprised, just as he practiced, and then put his silverware down to punctuate his reaction.
“Wow, Mr. Shoemaker, I am honored that you have such confidence in me!” He said, flashing another charismatic smile – impressions were vital at this meeting, because these men represented a powerful political machine for the democrats in Washington. He made himself look as though he were going to go on about how flattered he was, but really never intended to unless they forced him to with silence.
“—Now, now!” expectedly interrupted the middle-aged man. “It won’t be easy! Maryland almost always goes to the Republicans! But we think that you represent the best shot the Democrats have had in quite a few years to pick us up a seat! So you think it over, and we’ll be in touch to find out your answer. Senate is a big step, my boy!”
The men beamed at Jacob, and he and his perfect wife smiled back, and it was over. It had all gone flawlessly. Life was good to Jacob. Jacob had no previous experience in office, and the Senate was almost an impossible goal to achieve, but Jacob had supposed they were going for an outsider because the others who had announced their intentions didn’t have the confidence of the Shoemaker machine.
And then, there on the other hand, Jacob had been promoted after meeting his boss’s boss’s boss, Mr. Shoemaker of Shoemaker Steel and Wiring, and had been promoted off the assembly floor into a management position, and he had increased productivity by 15% which was apparently a lot. So now, Jacob, for whom life laid out the finest linens was to be Senator, and though it seemed impossible, everything just seemed to work out for him. So of course, when his boss called him the next day, Jacob eagerly accepted while carefully not seeming like he was naïve enough to believe victory would be easy. It was a delicate balance between seeming arrogant and seeming like a coward. He had to seem confident but cautious, and of course it was no trouble at all for Jake to pull off.
-Panama Canal, Panama-
-April, 1938-
Hojo waited in the cabin of the camped and obsolete destroyer. Soon, the hatch opened and a man very much as out of place as Hojo was on the boat with the sailors appeared as a stream of golden sunshine fell onto Hojo’s asian-featured face. He barely squinted at the sudden brightness, though his pupils certainly reacted. The silhouette approached him holding a briefcase. Hojo could make out a pistol holstered just behind his jacket as well now, since he had come very close and blacked out the light completely.
“Your next assignment is a dangerous one. It might very well be the last one you’ll ever take. If you want out, now’s the time to get out.” The man said in a deep, deep voice. He sounded like a croaking frog more than a man. And he looked rather like one, too, with a wide head and large, dark eyes and a wide nose as well. He remained silent for a long moment, as did Hojo.
He might die on this one. So be it, he would die for freedom, then. He had a son, and his pension would make sure they were well off if he died. Hojo nodded. “I’m ready for my assignment.”
“Good. Your job is not only dangerous, but difficult. You were specially picked out of all the agents that the United States employs, and let me assure you, that is a great many people. You have shown the ability to remain cool under pressure, the ability to kill the enemies of the United States without hesitation, and you are of Japanese ancestry, which will be vital to your mission succeeding. You are not to be captured alive on this mission, and as such, we will be providing you with these. If you for some reason cannot procure a means of escape from Germany after your mission, you are to take one of these capsules and place it between your teeth and bite. The effect will be swift and painless. Do you understand?” As he spoke, he took out a pill box, obviously filled with cyanide capsules.
“I understand.” Hojo said, though his throat was extremely dry.
“Good. Your mission details, your weapon, and everything else you’ll need is in this case. Good luck, Mr. Kitta.” Said the Frog-man, handing him the case and the pillbox. He turned and left without another word.
-Berlin, Germany-
-June 9, 1938-
Hojo sat in a safehouse which had been set up specifically for this single mission. He had carefully assembled his weapon, a brand new 100 Shiki Kikantanju Submachine Gun – just developed in Japan for the War Effort. He was to assassinate the German Finance Minister Hjalmar Schacht, who had done much to put Hitler in power and was something of a genius when it came to finance. He was to make it look like he was a Japanese was responsible by leaving the gun – the plans for which, by some dark humor on the person who had organized thie mission, Hojo had stolen – behind at the scene of the assassination and then disappear. He was to do the killing as quickly as possible in a public setting and escape as quickly as possible to avoid arrest.
He had been informed that Schacht was to attend a meeting with the president of a prominent chain of German Banks. When Schacht walked in, Hojo had decided to come in behind him holding the Japanese gun, say something in angry Japanese, fire into him, drop the gun, and get back into his still running car and drive off. He had scouted a wealthy Marina and had decided he would Hijack a vacant boat and head for Copenhagen and then London. He would not return to the American Embassies in either of these places, because an assassination could under no circumstances be traced back to the supposedly isolationist Americans.
Hojo sat in his car, looking through the rear view mirror. Finally, after what seemed like years, a black luxury car pulled up and Schacht got out of the back seat and entered the bank. Hojo got out of his car, clutching the sub machine gun in hand. People passing in the street mostly didn’t notice, but some did and their eyes widened. Hojo put a convincing mask of hatred onto his face, kicked the door of the bank open with his foot as he punched a doorman in the face with the butt of the sturdy weapon and shouted some nonsense about Schacht cheating the Mitsubishi Bank out of some contract or another, and just as Schacht turned around to see what all the commotion was about, he caught three bullets in his torso, coughed up a bit of blood, and fell backwards to a choir of screams and sobs. Hojo threw the weapon at the dying man and left the building before the hot brass that had fallen to the exquisite marble floor had even stopped spinning.
(Someone in the American government besides J. Edgar Hoover seems to be playing international politics from the rooftops. They have killed one of Germany’s best ministers!)
Vann: Wouldn't YOU like to know?
Jacob was ready when they came. He had married in the year and a half since Roosevelt had taken an effortless victory in ’36. His wife, Susan, was a sweet girl with golden curls and a beautiful face and she had a political head on her, too. Jacob had met her, fittingly enough, on Roosevelt’s staff. However, despite all her nice qualities, he really only married her for show. Voters always preferred a married man to a single one, for some reason, and his wedding to such a lovely young woman was no hardship for him.
Susan and he had been expecting them, and had made a much larger dinner then just the two of them could possibly manage to eat, but their visitors didn’t seem to mind. Both were dressed very well, Jacob in a suit and Susan in a spectacular blue dress. Which seemed to be made from the very essence of a thousand sapphires – borrowed, of course, for the occasion.
They shook hands at the door, Jacob smiling charismatically and welcoming them in, Susan taking their coats. It was three elderly gentlemen and a younger, middle-aged one. They looked like the heads of some corporation, and indeed, one of them was.
“Jacob! How long has it been? A year?” The younger of them said as he took Jacob’s offered hand in both of his and shook it excitedly.
“A year and a half, but it doesn’t feel that long, does it?” Jacob said idly, still smiling. “Finally out of that awful depression at last! Say, Susan has just about finished making dinner, I’m glad you stopped by. Maybe you’d like to join us?”
“Well, truth is, we’d love to, and perhaps we will. However, we didn’t come by just to say ‘Hi,’ I’m sure you understand. Well, I suppose we can explain it over dinner, right boys?” Said the eldest man, in a brown suit with a red tie, looking to the others. They all nodded vigorously, and soon were sitting down to eat.
“So, in ’36 we got you to know you and Susan very well, even though you weren’t married at the time – ah, congratulations by the way!” Began the elderly man again. Susan smiled a gorgeous smile and crinkled her nose in reply. She was born for politics, thought Jacob. “And anyway, we know you’re interested in politics – and though you’re young, we think you’d be the perfect candidate for the democratic ticket for Maryland for senate!”
Jacob was silent for a moment as though surprised, just as he practiced, and then put his silverware down to punctuate his reaction.
“Wow, Mr. Shoemaker, I am honored that you have such confidence in me!” He said, flashing another charismatic smile – impressions were vital at this meeting, because these men represented a powerful political machine for the democrats in Washington. He made himself look as though he were going to go on about how flattered he was, but really never intended to unless they forced him to with silence.
“—Now, now!” expectedly interrupted the middle-aged man. “It won’t be easy! Maryland almost always goes to the Republicans! But we think that you represent the best shot the Democrats have had in quite a few years to pick us up a seat! So you think it over, and we’ll be in touch to find out your answer. Senate is a big step, my boy!”
The men beamed at Jacob, and he and his perfect wife smiled back, and it was over. It had all gone flawlessly. Life was good to Jacob. Jacob had no previous experience in office, and the Senate was almost an impossible goal to achieve, but Jacob had supposed they were going for an outsider because the others who had announced their intentions didn’t have the confidence of the Shoemaker machine.
And then, there on the other hand, Jacob had been promoted after meeting his boss’s boss’s boss, Mr. Shoemaker of Shoemaker Steel and Wiring, and had been promoted off the assembly floor into a management position, and he had increased productivity by 15% which was apparently a lot. So now, Jacob, for whom life laid out the finest linens was to be Senator, and though it seemed impossible, everything just seemed to work out for him. So of course, when his boss called him the next day, Jacob eagerly accepted while carefully not seeming like he was naïve enough to believe victory would be easy. It was a delicate balance between seeming arrogant and seeming like a coward. He had to seem confident but cautious, and of course it was no trouble at all for Jake to pull off.
-Panama Canal, Panama-
-April, 1938-
Hojo waited in the cabin of the camped and obsolete destroyer. Soon, the hatch opened and a man very much as out of place as Hojo was on the boat with the sailors appeared as a stream of golden sunshine fell onto Hojo’s asian-featured face. He barely squinted at the sudden brightness, though his pupils certainly reacted. The silhouette approached him holding a briefcase. Hojo could make out a pistol holstered just behind his jacket as well now, since he had come very close and blacked out the light completely.
“Your next assignment is a dangerous one. It might very well be the last one you’ll ever take. If you want out, now’s the time to get out.” The man said in a deep, deep voice. He sounded like a croaking frog more than a man. And he looked rather like one, too, with a wide head and large, dark eyes and a wide nose as well. He remained silent for a long moment, as did Hojo.
He might die on this one. So be it, he would die for freedom, then. He had a son, and his pension would make sure they were well off if he died. Hojo nodded. “I’m ready for my assignment.”
“Good. Your job is not only dangerous, but difficult. You were specially picked out of all the agents that the United States employs, and let me assure you, that is a great many people. You have shown the ability to remain cool under pressure, the ability to kill the enemies of the United States without hesitation, and you are of Japanese ancestry, which will be vital to your mission succeeding. You are not to be captured alive on this mission, and as such, we will be providing you with these. If you for some reason cannot procure a means of escape from Germany after your mission, you are to take one of these capsules and place it between your teeth and bite. The effect will be swift and painless. Do you understand?” As he spoke, he took out a pill box, obviously filled with cyanide capsules.
“I understand.” Hojo said, though his throat was extremely dry.
“Good. Your mission details, your weapon, and everything else you’ll need is in this case. Good luck, Mr. Kitta.” Said the Frog-man, handing him the case and the pillbox. He turned and left without another word.
-Berlin, Germany-
-June 9, 1938-
Hojo sat in a safehouse which had been set up specifically for this single mission. He had carefully assembled his weapon, a brand new 100 Shiki Kikantanju Submachine Gun – just developed in Japan for the War Effort. He was to assassinate the German Finance Minister Hjalmar Schacht, who had done much to put Hitler in power and was something of a genius when it came to finance. He was to make it look like he was a Japanese was responsible by leaving the gun – the plans for which, by some dark humor on the person who had organized thie mission, Hojo had stolen – behind at the scene of the assassination and then disappear. He was to do the killing as quickly as possible in a public setting and escape as quickly as possible to avoid arrest.
He had been informed that Schacht was to attend a meeting with the president of a prominent chain of German Banks. When Schacht walked in, Hojo had decided to come in behind him holding the Japanese gun, say something in angry Japanese, fire into him, drop the gun, and get back into his still running car and drive off. He had scouted a wealthy Marina and had decided he would Hijack a vacant boat and head for Copenhagen and then London. He would not return to the American Embassies in either of these places, because an assassination could under no circumstances be traced back to the supposedly isolationist Americans.
Hojo sat in his car, looking through the rear view mirror. Finally, after what seemed like years, a black luxury car pulled up and Schacht got out of the back seat and entered the bank. Hojo got out of his car, clutching the sub machine gun in hand. People passing in the street mostly didn’t notice, but some did and their eyes widened. Hojo put a convincing mask of hatred onto his face, kicked the door of the bank open with his foot as he punched a doorman in the face with the butt of the sturdy weapon and shouted some nonsense about Schacht cheating the Mitsubishi Bank out of some contract or another, and just as Schacht turned around to see what all the commotion was about, he caught three bullets in his torso, coughed up a bit of blood, and fell backwards to a choir of screams and sobs. Hojo threw the weapon at the dying man and left the building before the hot brass that had fallen to the exquisite marble floor had even stopped spinning.
(Someone in the American government besides J. Edgar Hoover seems to be playing international politics from the rooftops. They have killed one of Germany’s best ministers!)
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