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office.jpg


Slaret was reading the newspaper behind his desk, when someone unexpectedly knocked on the thick oak doors closing him off from the rest of the floor. From the sound and intensity of the rapt, he judged that it was his secretary, a cheery blonde that was not hired for her skills as a secretary but rather for her looks.

“Come in.”

Sure enough, it was his secretary wearing a blouse that was a tad too small. Just the way he liked it.

“What is it?”

“There’s a Mr. Douglas requesting to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

“Ok let him in. No wait; tell him to wait a few minutes. I want to finish this paper.”

“Oh have you read about what happened to Robert Barnes? A shame isn’t it?”

“Yes. Hope he gets well soon.”

With that said, the nameless secretary walked out of the room, her hair tied in a ponytail bouncing behind her. After he saw the door close with a gentle click, Slaret went back to his paper.

ROBERT BARNES IN COMA

Robert Barnes, a respected reporter at this paper was found shot outside the abandoned factory district outside downtown Boston where he was immediately rushed to the hospital yesterday afternoon. He had been apparently been shot by a rifle as he was coming out of a factory. According to police reports, there were papers scattered around his body that they hope will determine who would shoot a prized member of the community. Just a week before, he had given an undisclosed amount to the children orphanage which would have allowed it to continue to open its doors to orphans instead of being demolished for a new building complex. According to Barnes trusted friends on this staff, he went to the factory district frequently to meet informants during his investigations in factories and businesses. Mr. Barnes will be moved from Massachusetts General Hospital to the elite facility at Kingdom Hospital in Maine where they are better suited to deal with coma patients according to hospital staff. Any witnesses or anyone with information regarding this attempt on Mr. Barnes’ life are urged to call the police and give information. All hearts on our staff goes out to Barnes’ wife Molly, and his son William…

“Let him in.” he said to the secretary through the door.

Sure enough, it was Douglas, the one he had hired to kill Barnes who did not.

“I thought I told you to kill Barnes,” he merely said coldly.

“But I couldn’t sir! He’s the hero of the people!” almost pleading with Slaret.

“You have failed the Party,” he merely said. “You’re lucky I had prepared for every contingency. Now Barnes is just in a coma and not dead. Maybe he will prove himself useful…In fact this is better than him dead…”

“Not dead? Yes he is! I saw the bullet go right here!” his hand hovered in front of the general location where his heart would be. “He must have lied bleeding there for at least 20 minutes! He’s dead!”

“Read the paper for yourself.” With that, he threw the newspaper he finished reading at him, hitting Douglas squarely in the chest. He looked at the paper and stared in amazement at the news.

“He’s not dead!?”

“Indeed,” was Slaret’s simple reply.

“But wait. Isn’t Kingdom Hospital funded and staffed by people of the party?”

“Indeed. Now get out of my office. I am expecting a very important phone call.”

Douglas walked out of the office, still clutching the newspaper in his hands like a child with candy and with a face of astonishment and wonder. Just as the door close, the phone started to ring.

“Hello?”

“This is Dr. Raymond Shaw of Kingdom Hospital. All things are ready as you asked for and we will be ready to begin in about an hour.”

“Excellent. Let me know when the operation is over and whether it is a success.”

“Yes sir.”
 
Slaret's office is an exact replica of the German Reich Chancellor's. He must be quite the fan. ;)

So what infernal operation as Slaret ordered at Kingdom Hospital? :eek:
 
I don't think Mr. Barnes will be out and about anytime soon.
 
Operation? I wonder ... I wonder if Barnes will come out of this with all his mental faculties intact.
 
cthulhu: Heh, he can only have the best! :p As for the operation, we shall see...

GeneralHannible:I don't either :D

stnylan:Guess I havent been all that subtle have I :p

:eek: only 3 replies!? i demand more! :p
 
hospital.jpg


Dr. Raymond Shaw was walking down the hall and was in a sweat having jogged to Kingdom Hospital from his cozy house in the small village a mere 5 miles away. He encountered Dr. Jonathan Goode who was walking in the opposite direction and holding a stack of papers on a clipboard.

“Hello Dr. Goode. How are our patients today?”

“Well Ray, Barnes is doing quite nicely. The results are going better than expected.”

“Now Johnny, its Dr. Shaw. Need to be in a state of professionalism…Damn it Johnny, look what you made me do.” He smiled, revealing a row of teeth a dentist could only dream about. “Ah my old friend…Been with me through thick and thin…Whose papers are you holding there?”

“Oh these? These are just observations and results with the other persons at the hospital.”

“Anyone stand out?”

“Oh everything is normal except with this subject by the name of…”he flipped through the papers until he reached one near the end of the stack. “Joseph McCarthy. For some strange reason, he has resisted all attempts to wipe or alter his mind.”

“Really? Let me see that chart.” Goode proceeded to hand the board over, almost reluctantly, as if the board has some secret message on it. “Why, this is just some college student from the GLC! Why do we have him here?”

“Apparently he discovered about Operation Mneme out in GLC and was sent here by the agents in hopes of clearing his memory. After all he’s just a college student and it’s summer…People will probably think he’s off drinking or something. Or they felt sorry for him…He is, after all, 25…”

“Well anyways…” and took some more glances at the chart. “My God! He has to be simply insane! No sane man could stand these experiments and still come out of them with a working mind…shocking his brain 20 times in a minute? He isn’t a guinea pig! All necessary experiments to brainwash have been done years ago in Russia! We have no needs for these new methods!”

“But they weren’t working and I couldn’t bare to just kill him and-“

“Never mind. Clear him out of the hospital and return him to whatever cow farm he came from. Hopefully, those tests will alter his mind enough and make him forget his ordeal here. If anyone even suspects what he might say about this facility is true, may it forever be on your head old friend!”

After he had calmed down a bit, he handed back the clipboard to Goode and once again engaged in small talk. “So how is your wife? Still good I hope?”

“Oh she’s fine. She still hopes to get her mother to New England to join us in our struggle against the Capitalist dogs.” He sighed, “It’s going to be hard to get her here with all the crackdown on remaining Communist patriots still fighting in Russia though. Last we heard she was boarding a train from Kiev to Georgia where she would cross the border into Turkey and then get here.

“Stalin is letting people leave Georgia to come here?”

“Oh yes. It’s all part of Operation Telefon to get more people to other places in order to continue the revolution from other countries, mainly New England. It’s in effect in Vladivostok as well only they are going to Asia to join the NECP*”

“Heh. First in start New England and then go to Russia and finally settle in China. Join The NECP if you like to travel and aren’t afraid to die!” he said lamentably. So many comrades killed in the failed Revolution in Russia…”

“At least the fight still continues eh comrade? The fight is only lost if the workers give up! And the power of the workers trumps all! Our time will come comrade,” clapping his hand on Shaw’s shoulder.

“Look at the time! I must go check up on our esteemed patient Barnes. Talk to you later comrade.”

“Indeed comrade.”

With that said, the two continued on their separate ways, one to pay a visit to Barnes and the other to authorize the release of a Joseph McCarthy back to Wisconsin where he would continue on with a semi-normal life Goode hoped...

*New England Communists Party
 
Mmmm, I wonder. I think that discharge could be a rather important error.
 
I am very very confused, can you please post some backround :confused: .
 
So, from this you can clearly write, and have full command of the English language... So why not when commenting on my AAR? ;)
 
anonymous4401:heh heh my friend always said save the best for what matters the most :p

I will post a character map when I'm finished with it to keep up with all the characters and actions taken in regards to our main character Barnes
 
estate-1.jpg


June 17th 1934

We arrive outside a grand estate, arriving a few minutes after 7. Forests surround this immense dark foreboding structure, which gives visitors that they are in Transylvania, outside the mansion of none other than Dracula himself rather than in the rolling countryside of Boston. Yet for all these ominous signs, we hear laughter and see lights radiating from the innards of the building. Let us go have a look inside and see what is the occasion.

“Is everyone enjoying themselves?” cried Slaret from beside a great grandfather clock.

He was replied with cheers and the raising of wine filled glasses. Or so it would appear to outsiders such as hikers who would stray too close to the estate. Slaret smiled as he patted the Telegraphone, the first magnetic recorder to be made commercially available, and one of the product that his company was licensed to produce. He made sure that everything was working as it was supposed to. After all, it wouldn’t do for strangers to hear a screeching sound or to have the magnetic wire suddenly break, providing silence in the middle of a party now would it?

Subsequently, he walked out of the main room and strolled down the stairs to the wine cellar, nodding to one of the servants as he went down. Of course, all workers under him are, or rather had been, members of the Communist Party and were extremely trustworthy. As he stepped down to the floor, he was greeted with cheers and raised glasses, only this time, they were held by actual humans. He saw that the other 18 members were profusely enjoying his wine collection. And his cigar boxes. He had smelled the aroma of his Cuban cigars from the middle of the stairs while walking down.

“I see you’re all enjoying yourselves…”he said wryly.

“Well is it a Communist’s society is it not?” one of them said wittily.

“Ah shut up Christopher,” replied Slaret, “The revolution didn’t start yet. Now everyone put those cigar boxes and wine bottles away. We got business to talk.”

After all had been put away in their general correct location, all sat down in comfy chairs in the corner putting their glasses on the circular dining table between them.

“Comrades!” Slaret began, “It has been 1 week since the hospitalization of Barnes. Already, we have made some excellent gains on the status of his mind. Soon, I say in another two weeks, he will be ready to be released out into society but as a leader for the Communist Party! Under our thumbs of course.” They chuckled at that but Slaret continued, “Soon Phase Two of our plan will be in action and then and only then will we be able to unleash the power of the worker onto New England.”

“How long do we have to wait?” exclaimed a rather portly man named Arthur. “My workers are crying for action against the industrialists. Excluding present company of course.”

“Yes Slaret, the workers want revenge for the assassination attempt on Barnes. They will not stay their hand for long.” They of course did not know that the entire attempt on Barnes was orchestrated by Slaret himself and known only to 3, no 4, other people. None of them questioned the convenience that Barnes had suddenly got attacked and was sent to Kingdom Hospital, run by Communists itself.

“My friends, my friends,” Slaret said, “Our revolution will not succeed if we urge it and push it too quickly. Phase Two has to be complete first until we can go forth with out plan and expect victory. We have too much to lose if we attempt the Revolution now. We must wait until Phase Two is done and the government attention is away from possible Communist activities until we should activate Plan Red. As for a date…I would say three more months. Three months should be the earliest for the plan to be implemented and November should the latest. We must exercise caution. Remind your underlings, or rather fellow worker comrades, that their time will come but it must not be now.”

The others grudgingly accepted his proposal and began to talk again.

“And the weapons. Will they be ready in time for the Revolution? And supplies? Will there be enough followers for the Revolution to succeed?”

“I assure you Victor, by the time Phase Two is done, the military will be severely weakened and vulnerable to us. The soldiers will flock to us in droves, and with them, military experience to lead our band of comrades to triumph. The remaining disillusioned soldiers will be led incompetent fools who call themselves Generals to their deaths. Once enough of them have died…the rest will see the light such as those who had left earlier due to Phase Two and once again arrive at our feet, begging for acceptance into the Revolution.”

The man named Victor nodded along with the others. Once again the room descended into an awkward silence broken only by Slaret tapping of the wooden armrest of his chair.

“Well I guess this meeting is over…unless you gentlemen would like some entertainment…In that case I would advise you to go to Madame Holly’s Masseuse. I hear the girls are very good there.”

That elicited a laugh from everyone especially from two of the present company who were regular “customers” at the massage parlor. As they went upstairs to the main room, Slaret turned off the Telegraphone, which was nearing the end of its reel. After they had exited the estate and gone their separate ways, Slaret went up to the main room and dialed a call to an essential person in regards to Phase Two.

“You may commence.”
 
I hope for New England's sake that unforseen obstacles will stand in the way of this phase two! Damn communist scum! :mad: :D
 
The sinister Phase Two... All secret operations need a Phase Two!
 
For some reason I do not trust Slaret. I could be totally off-base, but I think she is more than she lets on.
 
church4ra.jpg


June 21st 1934

We venture to our next location, a dirty old church in the slums of Boston. The sign above the battered door reads “The Church of St Nylan”. People are packed within this small church, cramped and derelict. Surely it is holding twice the amount of what is it supposed to hold, I supposed almost 300. The temperature is unusually hotter than what would normally be yet people are still in this cramped place. We feel a force of power and authority within this room. We come upon a black man, seated in front of a crowd who are sitting before him. It is apparent that he clearly does not belong with the rest and it shows. He wears a clean pressed suit, contrasting with the dirty and worn clothes of the others. Surely, this man is a privileged man. Clearly by some way or another he has acquired riches that only the rest of the crowd can only dream about. The crowd brims with excitement, containing many of different ages. We see some adults, some who looked as if they started work when they were children and will never stop working until they die, elders who look old enough to have seen the start of the American-Mexican War, screaming babies with mothers trying to hush them, teenagers and children. The privileged man starts to stand, straight and unwavering. The people of the crowd stop whatever they were doing and the room falls silent. The man starts to walk to a podium and begins to speak but then he stops. He coughs and then he starts.

“My brothers! For too long have we suffered under the hands of the white man! Too long have we labored under them and for what? Nothing but blood, sweat and tears! Sure we have “equality” and “freedom” according to the white man. But what do we really have? Instead we have poverty, crime and racism. Members of the government are corrupt; many issuing laws that keeps the black man down and keeps us that way. Not to mention that all members of the government is white! And why are there no blacks in government? Where is our voice? Who will stand up for what we believe in and what we want? They say that there weren’t enough votes for them to be elected. Well I say they just threw away our votes, preventing us from having our voice, our power!”

“Everyday as I venture out into the ghetto, I see our people and it saddens me. I see poverty, some without homes laboring day in and day out and for what? Nothing. We live in apartments that would never be allowed to stand if it was a white neighborhood. No running water, no nothing. Ventilation is not present; courtyards are filled with trash and sewage instead of playgrounds for our kids. Gang violence everywhere! Every day I hear of another shooting and death here. Drug dealers peddling to children no more than 10 years old. It saddens me. No, sadden is too soft a word. It sickens me. It sickens me that we would choose to accept this rather than to resist. We say we are better off than our brothers in the south. That we are not slaves like they are. But are we not slaves? Slaves to the white man’s money that keeps us poor and deprived. They humble us saying that we have every opportunity to grow rich like they can. But do we really? What are we to the white man’s eyes? Nothing but rubbish that impede their way. There is a reason why blacks live in ghettos and whites live in them fancy suburbs and high apartments. Everyday its work. Work, work and more work. Laboring under the white man’s eyes, in the white man’s factory, using the white man’s tools. We are nothing more than slaves. Sure we don’t admit it because we’re ‘better off than the ones in the south’ but it is still true.”

“They call our groups terrorists organizations. Everyday, they are arrested and sent off to some far-off place for labor. But what are they really doing? Merely protecting our people where their white police force will not. How can they advocate the detainment of our own private police force when they are sworn to ‘Protect the innocent’ and ‘Ensure the safety of all New Englanders’? Well apparently they can because we are Negroes. A sub-human species in their eyes. Advocates for our rights: Booker T. Washington and WEB Dubois are in prison, carrying out life sentences for nothing more than speaking out for the black man. They have become martyrs for our cause and may we revere them forever. There was once a great man out west, in the GLC. His name was Abraham Lincoln. He issued a proclamation for the country. One that reverberated throughout the lands. He said and I quote ‘On the first day of January, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, all persons held as slaves within any State or designated part of a State shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free by the executive order of the Great Lakes Confederation.’ The first of it proclamation in the history of North America. With those words, it spurred the slaves of the south to rebellion. He was one of the good, one who fought for the right and was noble and decent. Tragically his death was less than noble, having been shot in the back by a white supremacist while going for a walk on the grounds of the Presidential Mansion. Never more shall there be a greater white man than he. For shame for shame…”

“Surely you have heard the words of Marcus Garvey who advocates that we should move back to Africa. But why should we? Why? Have there not riches in New England? Indeed, there is but we are not getting our share. The lion’s share of the wealth goes to the white man, leaving scraps for us. But what creature can live on scraps alone? They say ‘Wait, wait, you will someday get your share.’ Someday…when will that day come brothers and sisters? When?! When we are old and weathered, where our only hopes and dreams are for death? I say we act now! The time is now! Nevermore shall we be kept down like dogs!”

“God weeps. Jesus weeps. Even The Great Cthulhu weeps. All of them weep because we choose to accept our fate. We choose to accept to be treated like dogs and mongrels. Free at last! Free at last! By God Almighty, we shall be free at last! We shall be free by any means necessary! Be that by force or otherwise. My brothers…I did not want it to come to this…but this is the only way! The only way to receive everything we ever wanted, desired and sought. By force alone shall we receive. We have the supplies. The people. By tomorrow, all of New England shall be in flames with our million-man march. From New York City to Arcadia, from Boston to Albany. We shall be heard! Nevermore shall we be held in bondage. Nevermore shall we have to put up with whites. For today…I issue a Riot!” and in a whisper he says, “May God help us all…”

The crowd is on its feet cheering in excitement. Some goes to the corner of the room in order to receive weapons in order for the riot tomorrow. Pistols, rifles, all are available for all. Likewise, across the country the exact scene is happening. The speaker steps off the stage and sees another elderly man dressed similarly to him. He walks up to him and draws him away to another room, away from the cheers and noise.

“It is done Nathan.”

“Do you hear them Martin? The excitement. The confidence brimming from them.”

“But Nathan, we are sacrificing countless lives,” the speaker pleaded. “We know that they won’t stand a chance. Several million lives will be lost…and countless more to follow. If we fail…it shall be the end of the black man in New England!”

“Martin it must be done. Once you reach my age, you realize…we are all pawns. All pawns in a great game that we cannot control. You cannot resist it and we must follow it. Who knows? Maybe they will succeed and achieve the lion’s share as you aptly put it. But even if they don’t…It is all for the greater good Martin. If we do fail, I hear the fishing around Haiti is quite nice. Now come, we must prepare for tomorrow. For I will lead the charge. Soon all the country shall know my name, Nathan Jackson, leader of the Black Revolt of 1934. And nothing shall stop me in my mission.”


Modern-day historians attribute the start of the Riots of ’34 to broken promises to the African-New Englander and the unusually hot summer. The blacks rallied to a man by the name of Nathan Jackson who is believed to have been a minister who proclaimed he was on a mission sent by God himself to rid the nation of people who had done the blacks wrong. Amazingly, he somehow seemed to acquire several weapons including the Mosin-Nagant rifle that would prove surprisingly good for urban warfare, being used as a sniper rifle and multitudes of MP-18s along with half a dozen Maxim machine guns and crates of grenades. This is not to mention the captured stores of armories that inevitably dragged the length of the riots longer than it should have lasted. Luckily for the nation, by the time the revolt had occurred, many decided it was not worth the risk to carry such weapons with the risk of getting captured and face certain death and opted to just pillage and burn stores. If it wasn’t for this change of heart, New England could had found itself at the perils of the riots…
 
I must include the Church of St Nylan in a serious AAR sometime.
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Mmm, quite a rabble-rousing speech that. I think Martin is right to fear.

And thank you for the mention. ;)
 
Yea! Its been updated again! Perhaps the rioters are setting the stage for even more violence? We better find out soon though! :rofl: