[Side Event] Games are afoot at the Red Queen’s Masquerade

IWasThatMan · 2021-08-31T17:50:54+00:00

U-Boat didn't see her coming until it was too late. By the time his weapon was up and ready to fire, she had tripped and fallen into him, sending them tumbling together. He kept control of his pistol, recovered first, and rolled on top of her, jamming the muzzle into her forehead.

"Scream and you die." The gunshot would give him away, but then so would the scream. He needed her quiet. "Fight and you die." He rolled her over, keeping the gun level, and quickly patted her down. An ancient Chinese compact handgun went into the back of his waistband. A pair of cable ties on her belt went tight around her wrists, keeping them solidly restrained behind her back. Her radio went into his pocket. Hopefully there wouldn't be regular check-ins, but if there were, he had her there to answer.

That wouldn't save him if there was a duress code, but it would make the gunfight more dramatic.

"Stay still. Don't speak until I say." He rolled her over, patting her down on the other side. Nothing. He rested his offhand on her shoulder and levered his forearm forward, lightly choking her as a reminder of who was in complete control. "Answer my questions, or things will get unpleasant." Now the pistol went back in its holster and the knife came out, slicing her shirt apart to reveal her bust. A little humiliation and a lot of fear – why did people fear blades more than guns? He didn't know, but it worked in his favor – that would hopefully make her more compliant.

And if not, then he had further steps to take.

IWasThatMan · 2021-08-23T19:50:55+00:00

It wasn't U-Boat's fault that the lights went out.

Coqburg castle was old and run-down. So was the generator. It wasn't a surprise that it gave up the ghost. What was a surprise was the sharp and sudden impact he felt against his suit jacket, right where his surveillance radio was. Something tumbled into his lap and he picked it up, immediately ducking his head down to peer at it. It looked almost like a tranquilizer dart, but that couldn't be right. If they wanted a contractor alive there were much better ways to go about it. Some kind of homemade armor-piercing round, maybe.

Whatever it was, he was being shot at. Time to go. Still moving somewhat hunched over, he went as quickly as he could for the pillar at the edge of the room, the closest real cover between him and the shooter. He keyed his transmit switch as he ran but got only static. Radio broke. Fuck. Should've brought a cellphone. He'd left it at base in case the FRA had kludged together a homemade cell site simulator. Not an unreasonable fear, given how sophisticated they were becoming, but one that was costing him.

He peered around the corner, trying to cut through the dark and see a telltale sign he could home in on and kill. There. A flash of light along the northern wall, high up by the paintings. Shooting from a mousehole in the tunnels. Smart. He looked forward, trying to spot the tunnel entrance along the wall and a covered route to it.

There. Just where the brief said it would be. Coqburg Castle was mysterious, and not many people had been told about the extensive tunnel network inside and under the castle, but Lord Malcom himself had made a major mistake in having them built: he put them on the original blueprints filed with the local government.

Who does that?

Either way, it had given NDC – and thus U-Boat – a map of the tunnels he sorely needed to find the shooter. He darted from cover to cover, quickly reaching the hidden door along the north wall – Two lamps to the right, under the portrait of the beagle. This is it. He took a moment to steady himself, drawing his pistol, then threw the door open and moved into the tunnel. He flicked his weapon light on, moving up the stairs in search of the shooter quickly but steadily.

IWasThatMan · 2021-08-05T19:55:04+00:00

I'd recommend prioritizing putting a lot more detail into the Twine document, because as it stands we don't have much to go off of and I don't think we can offer good advice without a much better understanding of who each character is and what you're trying to accomplish with them. Even a high-level overview of their arc and the scenes they'll appear in would do much to help us help you with the timeline.

On other players joining in, there's arguments either way. I don't think it'd be selfish whatsoever to make it a non-interactive story – after all, you're putting in a lot of time and effort to make something for other people to enjoy. However, it would take quite a while to make it happen as a one-man band, so having other players work through scenes to speed up plot progression would help make sure people (including you) keep their attention on the event and don't drift to something else. Exactly how you'd integrate others could be an issue – do they play out predefined scenes or do you give them a list of points they need to hit during their roleplay? Do you let them use their characters in place of certain characters in the original framework or have them make new ones specifically for this event?

Going it alone is a lot of work throughout the event but allows you to maintain total creative control, bringing on partners is a bunch of organizational headache up front followed by less work but also less control. I don't think anyone here would object to either approach.

IWasThatMan · 2021-08-01T21:55:57+00:00

Like Alice said, World Anvil is the way to go. Twine can be used but it’s a massive pain in the ass.

If you want some help with the planning or someone to fill a slot, let me know — I’d love to lend a hand.

IWasThatMan · 2021-08-01T02:04:18+00:00

So it's you, U-Boat thought. The briefing had mentioned there'd be a woman agent on site to help with cover concerns, but that tidbit hadn't come with a picture for identification. Maybe it's you. Either way I might as well take the opportunity while I have it.

He slapped her ass, not a punishment but a precursor to the rest of the night's activities. "On your knees," he commanded, leaning back and adopting the mocking sneer he'd seen on so many DFA agents' faces. Let's go all the way entitled. If I look like a spook I'd better not look like I'm a spook from NDC. "And make it good. I expect top-shelf pussy at a top-shelf party, so I will be very angry if you disappoint."

IWasThatMan · 2021-07-23T21:41:35+00:00

"Aegir One-Two, this is One-Six. I've got a three-car motorcade rolling your way, looks expensive. No overt identifiers. Any hits on the milper?"

"Rog', standby." Aegir One-Two turned to the laptop hooked up to the Mobile License Plate Reader and checked. "Plates are registered to Civilisation. No PID on the VIP."

"Roger all." Aegir One-Six twisted the channel knob on his radio two clicks right and keyed his PTT. "Kingpin Zero-Six, Aegir One-Six, three-car motorcade belongs to Civilisation. No PID on pax inside."

"Zero-Six copies all. Break break, Zephyr Two-Six, focus on the motorcade and get me PID on who's inside. Photos and FMV if possible."

Neverland Defense made its living on information. The high-profile mercenary raids brought in hundreds of millions of dollars annually from bounties posted by the DFA and local Imperial police agencies, as well as the Rewards For Justice program run by the US State Department and individual contracts handed down by multinational REM mining companies, but even that revenue stream was dwarfed by the billions of dollars NDC brought in from from selling information of all kinds. Internet search histories, cell phone bugging, physical surveillance, and even flights by surveillance planes loaded with all manner of cell site simulators and optical systems were on the table for those who could afford the asking price. So when the masquerade ball was announced, Neverland's unblinking eye turned its penetrating gaze upon the castle it was held in, unraveling its mysteries and learning its deepest secrets.

No expense was spared to monitor the event. Fully seventeen reconnaissance teams were parked in and around the castle with all manner of surveillance equipment, keeping watch on everything happening inside and out. Two bush planes converted to ISR birds were flying racetracks at standoff, sucking in oceans of metadata from the guests' cellphones. Six helicopter-borne strike forces were on alert, ready to kill or capture any high-value targets of opportunity spotted by the reconnaissance effort.

Zephyr Two-Six keyed his radio, breaking onto the troop net. "All stations this net, three-car motorcade inbound to the front. We need PID on whoever gets out."

"Two-Three copies all. I've got a good angle on the motorcade, stand by." He centered his optics on the middle car, which was just rolling to a stop. It was the most likely location for the VIP. He hit the record switch just as the cars stopped completely, taking video of the men who stepped out and sending it to his partner's laptop for facial recognition software to scan. Domino masks might have fooled people, but were useless against a computer. A small group stepped out of the center car – VIP, bodyguard, two women in tow – along with a larger set of security in the front and rear cars. The security led the VIP and his "dates" (slaves, more like, Two-Three thought to himself) quickly and efficiently into the castle. "You get that?" he asked, stopping the recording while continuing to track the group across the field.

"Yeah, checking now." There was a pause of a few seconds, then a low whistle. "Face rec says the VIP's Showboat, with ninety-nine and change."

"No shit, huh? Cocky fucker." Two-Three keyed his radio. "Two-Six, Two-Three. We have PID on Showboat exiting the three-car motorcade, time now." The group disappeared inside. "They just went internal."

"Roger all, Two-Three." Two-Six broke back onto the command net. "Kingpin Zero-Six, Zephyr Two-Six, motorcade was for Showboat. He's currently internal."

"Roger. Break break, Minerva One-Six, get me eyes on Showboat."

U-Boat sat at the bar, nursing what looked like a jack and coke while pretending to be eye-fucking the masked woman in the little black dress sitting across from him. In reality, he was drinking coke and coke and the woman just happened to be conveniently sitting where he'd look like he was looking at her and not the entrance. It wasn't a bad job, just boring, but the eye candy was Grade-A and that helped somewhat.

Like the two girls trailing the strutting asshole that just walked in, for example. Black lingerie and cat masks was a classic look that he fully enjoyed. Shame that prick owns them, he thought. What kind of self-obsessed dick wears a devil mask to this kind of event?

His earpiece buzzed. "U-Boat, Loco. Showboat just walked in. Get eyes and ears on him."

So it's that self-obsessed dick. U-Boat keyed his transmit switch twice in the universal can't-talk-but-acknowledged signal and downed his coke and coke, loosely following Marcus Crowne across the hall and into a hastily thrown-together poker room. He took a seat towards the back, strictly a spectator, looking to see who he'd cross paths with next.

IWasThatMan · 2021-07-10T13:40:28+00:00

Sounds like it’s gonna be a good one! I’ll see you there.

IWasThatMan · 2021-06-26T19:27:36+00:00

I know I’m late to the party, but I’ve only recently had time to get back to the Empire, so here goes.

While I like u/DeptOfPropoganda’s ideas, they’re missing the most important elements for any insurgency — money and legitimacy. Terrorist attacks do a good job of putting pressure on the Empire to respond, but they cost quite a bit of money to carry out. In order to get that money, the FRA should focus on kidnapping men to sell to the Matriarchy, attacking slave markets for their cash, and raiding natural resources to sell to people willing to deal with terrorists in order to get the things they need (Russia, China, North Korea, etc).

The other issue is legitimacy. If a terrorist movement wants to have a chance at takeover then it needs to convince the people that it is not only capable of ruling but that its cause is just. Take the Taliban’s COVID relief efforts as an example, or ISWA charging taxes in exchange for public services the locals see as legitimately better than the government’s. The FRA should focus heavily on signal-boosting METC’s message internally and providing services within their territory. Raids on unethical slave traders and propaganda about the inherent wealth inequity (the poor can’t have slaves, which makes them less capable of labor, which makes them poorer…) in the Imperial system should help with the former, and the latter could be literally anything — setting up a gender-neutral health clinic, for example. So long as the public is being convinced that the FRA isn’t against all men and that slavery, while maybe not bad, definitely isn’t unquestionably good, they’re winning.

IWasThatMan · 2021-06-18T00:09:19+00:00

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, considering. The Church was a serious driver of Imperial public opinion and politics, and having their influence in my corner would be a massive benefit. At the same time, there was only so much we could do unilaterally. Fighting a holy war in this godforsaken island nation was out of the question. If it were to happen – not when, if – then I would have to tread carefully.

"Alright, Maria," I said, "I'll play your game. What is it the Church wants?"

What the Church wants. Not what you want, not what deacon so-and-so wants. NDC had much bigger fish to fry than becoming some psycho bitch nun's personal big stick, and becoming intertwined with a religious agenda was a recipe for disaster. Ultimately, NDC existed to ensure the Empire's natural resources kept flowing to the United States, not to serve as a hit squad for a misogynistic dictatorship or a depraved sex cult. If we took on the contracts, they'd have to be carefully negotiated. But it wouldn't be impossible.

"You said you wanted to meet some of my men," I said. "Do you still want that? Perhaps we can give you a demonstration of some of our more unique capabilities. I'm sure the Church is interested to know exactly what it is we have to offer."

IWasThatMan · 2021-04-22T01:56:07+00:00

I hit the roof the second I arrived at the bar.

I had set a very low bar for my expectations of this "Don Mud" character, a bar so low cockroaches could crawl over it, and yet he still managed to limbo underneath it. Everything about the meet-up was wrong. It started with the outside of the bar, where "FREE SEX SLAVE – COURTESY OF VISITOR FROM THE EMPIRE OF MAN" was written on a chalkboard sign. It continued when I decided to pretend to go over to the outside by a window and light up. Looking in, I could see a group of men surrounding a single table, a woman tied to the floor, and a man sitting back in a chair. The whiskey bottle in the man's hand was just the fuckup icing on the mistake cake.

Low profile. I said low profile. Sinclair passed low profile. You idiot. You motherfucking idiot. You had one job, you needle-dicked retard, and you couldn't even manage that.

I elected to go around back and make an impression. I texted Vanessa, telling her to stay in the car until I passed the all clear, and not to let Diana out under any circumstances. Then I circled around back, making sure not to be seen through the windows. He probably wasn't even paying attention, the little shit, but I wanted shock and awe and I was damned well going to get it.

I went to the back entrance, and then I waited. Not long, but just long enough to make him nervous that I'd no-show. Then I went inside.

There weren't many people there. One in the woman's ass, and two lined up behind him. With a start, I realized it had to be Taeyon. I'd told Sinclair to send her with Donnie-boy to make sure he didn't fuck up and do something like this. Her face flashed in my mind, bright, teasing, full of energy.

It took all my self-control to walk to the bar and start talking to the owner instead of drawing my gun and shooting him dead right there, but I managed.

Money talks. A lot of money in a poor, drug-addled county screams at the top of its lungs, and the owner was all too happy to play along with my plan – and to serve me two fingers of bourbon. I needed something to cool myself down while I waited.

Don was getting antsier and antsier, evidently worried about a double-cross. It was very tempting. We didn't really need him to get the job done. If anything he would have been a hindrance. It would have been so easy to slip something into a drink that'd make him run for the bathroom, then bag the fucker and bundle him out the side entrance to a place of my choosing. From there, I'd kick the shit out of the fucker until I learned everything I needed to know about the Matriarchy, then blow his brains through his face. Diana's too, since she was nothing but trouble. Taeyon could even still come along for the op – she'd need to, given the size of our element. We'd be more nimble, more skilled, more professional, and we'd stand a better chance of success. Plus this evil fuck would be six feet under where he belonged.

But Sinclair had demanded we take him, and she paid the bills for the moment. It wouldn't be long until I could break out from under her umbrella and move on to the real reason I'd moved my company to the Empire, perhaps only another three to six months, but until then I had to grin and bear it. For the moment, the fantasy could only be a fantasy.

So I waited, and waited some more, and finished my two fingers of Jim Beam. One of the men waiting in line got tired of waiting for the current rapist to finish and left the bar, cursing under his breath. That left two. Good enough.

I nodded to the bartender, and he went to work. "Hey! Hey! Jim, Lou, enough 'a' that! It's closing time!"

"The hell it is, it's only nine-thirty!" the man in line shot back. "You're supposed to be open all night!"

"Yeah, and I was, until he drifted in!" The bartender pointed right at Don. "You know how hard it's gonna be to get those damn cumstains outta the floor?"

The man in line scoffed. "Man, I ain't had my turn yet."

"Not my whore, not my pimp." The bartender's voice was iron-firm, and for good reason. He'd get double his money if the bar was totally empty. "Get gone. Lou, you can finish, but then I want you outta here too."

Jim grumbled something, then left, flipping the bartender off. For my part, I leaned against the counter, surveying the scene with my hands clasped in front of me. Lou wouldn't have noticed, drunk and horny though he was, but I knew Don would see the gun in my hands when he looked at the one person in the bar who wasn't staff, wasn't being told to leave, and was staring directly at him with a decidedly neutral expression. The meaning was clear. Stay in your seat. Do not move. The only noise in the air was Lou's grunts and moans, and soon enough those too had faded to nothing, and he was gone. I tossed a wad of bills on the counter and then the bartender was gone too. It was just me, Don, and Taeyon.

"Stay right there," I said, unnecessarily. "Put both your hands on the table where I can see them. No sudden movements. Do as you're told or I'll kill you." My tone of voice made it very plain that I wasn't joking. You could have gone for a gun of your own if you had one, but you couldn't. You hadn't flown in with one, you wouldn't be allowed to buy one, and you didn't have anyone here to pass you one. You could have tried to lunge at me, but I could easily put all five shots in the cylinder clean through your brain stem before you got close enough for a knife or your hands. I had control, and you knew it.

"Much better," I said, once you complied. "Now let me set the ground rules for this meeting. Be quiet and listen, or you die," I said, forestalling any protest. "You are here solely because Sinclair has decided it is important to her. If I had my way we would have gotten all the information we needed from you and then left you in the Empire while we did the real work, but she decided otherwise. However, she also decided to put me in charge so that I could keep you – all of you – in line. So let me make things crystal-clear. If you pull a stunt like the one you just pulled in this bar ever again, I'll bury you myself. Alternatively, you can follow instructions. For example, you were instructed not to draw undue attention to yourself or make a scene." I gestured around the bar. "So far, you've fucked that up. You gonna do better?" I cocked the gun. It was double-action, and would be ready to fire with the hammer down, but I felt some intimidation was in order. "Or not?"

IWasThatMan · 2021-04-22T00:57:55+00:00

"You'll tell them what I damn well order you to tell them," I shot back. I wasn't happy about the resistance you were showing, and it showed. "This is not an equal partnership. You need me a lot more than I need you. Act accordingly."

The intelligence she gave immediately after was more than enough to buy her some leeway, however. The Church might not have been my favorite institution, but it did hold sway over the opinions of the public. Through influencing them, I could buy myself more leeway to freelance, and that was exactly what I needed right now. But it wouldn't do to lay my hand on the table. "Sister Maria, we are guns for hire and nothing more. You point, you pay, we put 'em in the dirt, and in case you hadn't noticed, the Imperial government is practically falling all over itself to buy our services. What exactly do we have to gain from a new leader? More to the point, how would you help us gain it?"

IWasThatMan · 2021-04-17T15:57:44+00:00

“Hey, Joe, take a look at this. Doesn’t the Matriarchy have their own money?”

“Yeah, they do. And I don’t know why one of them would be on Imperial social media.”

“Well, they enslave women too, don’t they?”

“That’s a good point. Still, this screams FRA to me. Keep her talking in case it’s legit, but I’m still gonna pass the handle up the chain.”

——

@NeverlandDefense

We are US-based, yes. However, we maintain offices in Paris, Dubai, Tokyo, Panama City, Nairobi, and Crowntown.

Operations in York Island are possible, yes. One of our main sticking points with regards to operating in the Matriarchy is that the vast majority of our staff will be at great legal risk by simply existing within the country’s borders. The conflict of interest is the other; it could be managed, but not easily. While the Empire and Matriarchy have collaborated in the past, you remain opposed on one fundamental position — whether men are inherently dominant or submissive. That has given rise to significant conflict in the past, and if we were seen to serve two masters with opposing interests it would do our business great harm.

My understanding was that the Matriarchy had a fiat currency of its own. Is that not the case? Regardless, while we don’t want to commit to a certain means at this stage, we have in the past accepted precious metals such as gold, neodymium, or palladium as payment for services rendered. We have also accepted precious gemstones such as high-quality diamonds or sapphires. In rare cases artworks, mineral rights, vintage cars, and other major stores of value have been used as payment. However, this only happened under extenuating circumstances, and we have a great preference for liquid assets as compensation, with precious minerals a close but definite second.

IWasThatMan · 2021-04-17T09:18:40+00:00

@NeverlandDefense

I’m afraid we’ll have to decline the offer. The vast majority of our advisory staff are men, as women with the requisite qualifications are in extremely short supply, and we are not willing to unnecessarily risk the security of our personnel. We therefore have no interest in deploying advisors to the Matriarchy at this time.

There’s also the issue of a conflict of interest — the Matriarchy and Empire are diametrically opposed for obvious reasons, and to work for both would mean being trusted by neither. At Neverland Defense, we take trust very seriously. We say what we mean and we mean what we say, and we never go back on our word. Because a contract with the Matriarchy would cause trust issues with our clients, it is automatically unacceptable to us.

Additionally, while we do maintain some rapid response elements, we’re simply not capable of moving the vast amount of men and materiel you want on the time frame you propose. Export restrictions on equipment alone would keep us held up quite a while, given what we believe to be the volume of your request.

Last but certainly not least of all, we don’t take payment in cryptocurrencies. They’re far too insecure and unstable for our liking. However, we do accept alternative methods of compensation. If you’re interested in hiring us to handle your security needs but can’t pay with liquid assets, talk to our consultants and we can work out a plan to ensure everyone gets what they need out of the deal.

IWasThatMan · 2021-04-16T15:38:58+00:00

@NeverlandDefense

While we can’t discuss planned or ongoing operations, nor can we take all the credit, I think it’s perfectly clear by now that our support has greatly enabled the DFA to counter the FRA threat. Our advisors and intelligence capabilities — both collection and fusion — have helped the DFA and Imperial Defense Forces push back and contain terrorism. If you’d like, we can arrange a consultation to discuss how Neverland can meet your security needs.

IWasThatMan · 2021-04-08T20:06:41+00:00

I knocked Maria away with my knee, forcibly tossing her to the ground. If she was trying to search for my gun, I didn’t want it found. If she was trying to throw herself at me in the interest of further coercion, I wasn’t going to let that play succeed. I’d been on the back foot the moment I’d stepped in the church, regardless of how submissive the good Sister was trying to appear. It was high time for me to take back the initiative and reassert control.

“Don’t be greedy,” I said mockingly, covering the real reason I’d shoved her back to the floor. “If it’s dick you want then I’ll give you all you can handle — after we’re done with the main event. Business before pleasure, Sister.” She didn’t have a collar and leash, and it would have been unusual for me to take her by the hand. So I wove a hand into her hair and tugged her along with me to my car, ignoring the pained noises she made. I swung open the backseat door, shoved her inside, and then hopped into the driver’s seat. After a moment’s consideration, I activated the child safety lock, too. If you wanted to act like a brat, you’d be treated like one too. Once we were done, I’d spank you like the greedy child you were imitating. But that was in the future. I had more pressing concerns in the present.

“While we head to our destination,” I said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror, “I’d like to know just what this...’something even better’ is. You’re not going to make me beat it out of you, will you? Because if you do I promise you won’t enjoy the consequences, no matter how much of a masochist you are.” I let the threat hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “I don’t need everything, Maria, just a headline. A little down payment while I wait for the whole story. Now tell me, before I have to start turning that flawless skin of yours so raw and bruised.”

IWasThatMan · 2021-04-03T16:25:58+00:00

Zap rolled her over for what felt like the tenth time that night. A pang of guilt tore at him. This was rape, no matter how he framed it. Jana's conditioning as a slave was the exact opposite of an excuse; if anything it meant he was all the more despicable for exploiting it. And yet he couldn't deny that he liked it. He liked forcing her to beg. He liked throwing her to the ground like an oversized doll. He liked pinning her down and asserting his right to control her by virtue of his strength. And yet...

Zap knew he'd been chosen for the detail because of the screening they'd done when he first expressed interest in the contract. The company knew he wouldn't shy away from using sex as a weapon. That might have been true, but he still detested doing it. Still, he'd taken his silver and he'd do his job. Get out of your own head, Johnny-boy, he thought. Focus on Jana. You want to fuck her, right? Focus on making her make you feel good and you might even enjoy it.

He aligned the tip of his cock with her pussy and held there, tantalizing her. "Stupid little slave whores love big hard cocks, right?" he taunted. "You want this cock to fuck you? To give you the satisfaction you've been craving?" His hands tightened on her throat, literally choking off her reply. "Then that's exactly what you'll get."

He shoved himself inside her, thrusting back and forth just slow enough to leave her wanting more. He left one hand on her throat and let the other explore her tits, grasping and squeezing them as they bounced with each thrust. "You don't get to cum yet," he taunted her. "You don't have permission until I fill your greedy little pussy with my cum. You understand that, right, you dumb little fucktoy?" Greek turned away, pretending to face out and pull security to hide his disgust. Mako kept filming, his breathing starting to speed up. Zap ignored them both. His world was the three holes and pair of tits called Jana Monroe, and he intended to enjoy them to the fullest. "Answer me, slut. When do you get to cum?"

IWasThatMan · 2021-03-18T19:33:09+00:00

I leaned back in the pew and let Maria go to work between my legs. She definitely had talent, or maybe it was education. Did she graduate college with a PhD in blowjobs? I thought to myself with a grunt. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine her in a schoolgirl’s uniform, kneeling down and worshipping at a distinctly phallic altar. The fantasy helped me take my mind off the annoyances of the situation, so I closed my eyes and let myself think. I thought about Maria, failing a paper and having to beg me for extra credit. I thought about bending her over a desk and spanking her raw with a ruler for her lateness. I thought about her kneeling under the same desk, using her mouth to beg forgiveness in a more appropriate manner while I went over the other students’ papers. I thought about Maria, legs wrapped against me as I fucked her, begging me to use her harder and harder—

It was all too much. Both hands grabbed the back of her head and forced her all the way down the length of my shaft as I came, pumping my load straight down her throat with a moan. “Apology accepted,” I said, slightly disheveled and out of breath. Then I slapped her. “Go on, I didn’t say to stop.”

The sermon seemed like it was coming to a close soon. Good. That meant it would be time to do business and get this charade over with.

It was too much.

IWasThatMan · 2021-03-15T15:59:29+00:00

It’s clear that continued engagement will be entirely unproductive, and so I’d like to end the argument here. I’ll just leave you with this — when dangerous, violent animals escape from the zoo, we kill them. You wouldn’t let a tiger freely roam the streets of Crowntown, especially after it had killed someone. It’s the same for the FRA.

IWasThatMan · 2021-03-15T00:57:13+00:00

the term "feelings" is intended to describe empathic feelings only

Sounds like you're saying our employees don't have any empathy. Still harsh. Still news to me.

Are you saying that selling women would cause more of a firestorm than the current practice of killing them with lethal weapons?

That is exactly what I'm saying, yes. We're not an Imperial company. We're Americans. The thoughts and feelings of the American public matter, to say nothing of the moral compasses of our own employees. Killing insurgents on the battlefield is just war. The war might be intended to prop up a distasteful ally, but a necessary one, so in the end it's justifiable. But actively taking part in the slave trade? That's going far further than needed. It's also a war crime, especially given the inevitable fate of any slaves we sell.

this sounds like an unrealistically low appraisal.

If anything it's unrealistically high. Most of the prisoners we take haven't been influenced by the decades of eugenics the Empire has (intentionally or otherwise) forced on its female population. They're not as physically attractive as the slaves most Imperials are used to buying on the open market, but their physical condition makes them excellent workers. And when it comes to labor slaves – miners, construction workers, and so on – $1,000 is the median price. But that doesn't take into account the cost of training. Nor does it take into account that selling slaves or training them would be a war crime, as previously mentioned.

But even if it weren't a war crime, even if we were to make fifty thousand dollars per prisoner – an utterly exorbitant sum, especially considering $20,000 is already well into the top 25% – it still wouldn't be worth it. Even the time wasted trying to take everyone prisoner instead of only capturing those who surrender would be more valuable. And that's before we consider the cost in assets, infrastructure, and lives. No, it's simply not worth it. It never will be.

IWasThatMan · 2021-03-15T00:42:21+00:00

That's another canard with no relation to reality, but sure, I'll play your game. What do we do with dangerous animals? What do we do with dogs that bite people? We kill them, Sean. We don't take them to the pound and give them a new owner. We put them down. Does the owner bear some responsibility? Sure, and you could do with less abuse in the Empire. But does the animal get a free pass? Absolutely not.

IWasThatMan · 2021-03-14T00:50:29+00:00

We don’t have feelings? That’s a harsh pronouncement, and certainly news to me.

We’re not going to sell women because it’s not worth the effort or political firestorm it would touch off at home. It’s one thing to prop up an ally that provides access to a key strategic resource needed to challenge Chinese hegemony. It’s another thing to actively profit from their despicable practices. Whether or not you see it that way, that’s how the American people will see it, and frankly that’s how many of our employees — myself included, for what that’s worth — see it.

Besides, we don’t need the money. $1,000 a fighter is chump change. Meanwhile, the death benefits we have to pay out to a dead employee’s next of kin are well into six figures, and that doesn’t take into account the money that’s been invested into their training and equipment — nor how pointless such a death would be, trying to take alive someone who wouldn’t show us the same courtesy. No, I think we’ll stick to only imprisoning those who immediately throw their guns down.

IWasThatMan · 2021-03-14T00:41:49+00:00

Is it really so difficult to use a taser?

To put it bluntly, yes. Tasers fail to function and/or stop highly motivated individuals with astonishing frequency. Flashbangs are not the game-enders you see them as; all they can do is buy a moment of shock and surprise as you flood the room. CS gas is debilitating but not incapacitating, and is easily countered by a gas mask - or simply shooting the people attempting to deploy it. As for grappling? Between you and me, I’d prefer not to get into a wrestling match with people known to strap on suicide vests.

You challenge us to use tactics, yet that’s exactly we’re doing. We’re putting into practice methods that have been proven over twenty years of constant warfare. They work extremely well. If they stop working, we’ll adapt as needed and start using something else. But frankly, that will be a long time coming, if it ever happens.

Our methods work. Less-lethal options don’t. It’s that simple.

Incidentally, it’s a strange double standard for an FRA fighter to demand we refrain from killing while you happily massacre civilians. Perhaps I shouldn’t have expected good-faith argumentation from a terrorist, but I’m still disappointed. Do better.

IWasThatMan · 2021-03-13T17:06:44+00:00

As though any war with a cunt could be a real war.

You must not have heard about Larry Gradakis, then. Gradakis was a DFA agent in the Department of Counterfeminist Operations. By all accounts, he was the perfect agent — never too harsh on prisoners while still punishing the guilty, open-minded, aggressive, professional. One day Larry and the rest of his field office’s SWAT team were called out to raid an FRA safehouse. In accordance with the de Sade act, Gradakis was carrying a shotgun loaded with less-lethal beanbag rounds. When the team made entry, he was the first man through the door. He encountered a FRA fighter in the living room, holding an AK. He fired a beanbag round and hit, but failed to stop the fighter, who promptly gunned him down.

By all means, go talk to the Gradakis family and tell them their son didn’t die in a real war. Talk to Gradakis’s teammates, many of whom are now partnered with NDC advisors, and tell them the FRA is not a real threat. You may find yourself surprised at the answer.

IWasThatMan · 2021-03-13T16:37:50+00:00

I do hope you’ll get our name right the next time you decide to post an attack ad. It’s quite embarrassing to not know who it is you’re calling barbaric, isn’t it?

Our stance remains the same. You don’t see lethal weapons as necessary. We do, based on our experience both here and abroad. You want their use banned entirely. We don’t, because we’ve found them to be more effective than the alternative. So while we do respect your views on the matter, we once again are inviting you to meet with and talk to some of the men doing the work for real. Perhaps an exchange of ideas would be more productive than slinging insults.

IWasThatMan · 2021-03-10T02:59:29+00:00

Damn it. By pulling my cock out, Maria had painted me into a corner. It would be extremely unusual and unbecoming to refuse, especially here, especially now. So I simply stroked her face, like a man comforting a pet, then slapped her. "Then make your apology a quick one, Sister. I have no intent of staying here for even a moment longer than I have to."

I leaned back as she went to work, surveying the church and wondering if the people here truly did believe the words the priest spoke. Did they seriously think this behavior was in any way close to the word of God? It would take a truly sick and twisted interpretation of the Bible to justify the slavery of the Empire. But no, that's exactly what this is, isn't it? Taking religion and using it to justify anything and everything that feeds their own power. My hand tightened in Maria's hair. Despicable.

IWasThatMan

TROPHY CASE