[IC] INCORPORATED: Capitalism Incarnate - [Megacorporation NRP]

[ClocktowerEchos]

^{GPBC EYEWTINESS NEWS
June 11, 2049}

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BREAKING NEWS: ATTACK ON EEC HQ

900+ DEAD, HEADS OF EEC KILLED

This just in, the European Economic Commission Headquarters in Vatican City, Italy was just attack. Officials say that at 8:34 AM local time, a bomb was set off in the buildings upper levels before a dozen more were set off all around the building and in several other places in the historic city. The ensuing blast and collapse of the beautiful building killed almost everyone inside; anyone above the first two floors is guaranteed to have been killed said local Security and Defense Force (SDF) commander, “I’ve seen blasts like these before in conflicts and uprisings that happened during the fall of the EU, except they were always by a single ordnance, not dozens. Whoever did this clearly had experience in planning; we vow to hunt them down with the help of the international community. Whoever did this, we will pay them back in blood.”

Despicable anarcho-communist and nationalist terrorist groups like the Red Orchestra and Europe Rising have all claimed foul credit for the attack, no doubt in a bid to cash in on the infamy. A statement released by the Red Orchestra claims credit:

“We will cut out the cancer that you have forced people to submit to. The will of the people decries the corruption and taint you have spread upon the world with your wicked sins of greed and capitalism for opulence is sinful and we all pay for it. We, the glorious heralds of the Revolution, the Red Orchestra, are the voice and will of the oppressed made manifested! We will liberate Earth and eradicate any trace of your vile taint!”

Millions have taken to the streets to decry the horrific acts that these mob have done to further their corrupt goals as security forces across Europe have been put on high alert for any follow up attacks.

With their unifying force now crippled, if not destroyed outright, all eyes turn to Europe and their executives and how they will react in the wake of this horrible tragedy. Stocks have crashed again but it seems that a gracious combined effort from the European corporations have halted any major collapse of the market and many retailers have also cut prices to help those in need cope; the people of Europe are humbly thankful for their generous and time actions. With repair and relief programs already underway, European companies are asking that people reach out into the kindness of their hearts and donate to the victims of this horrific terror attack.

Investors say that this is now the time to invest in construction and security industries during the rebuilding process with analysts agreeing that these stocks will certainly become more valuable with vehicle and foodstuffs also expected to see a small increase. This is a prime time for anyone in those industries. Now a word from out sponsors:

“Don’t let the bad guys scare you!”
“Mhm! We’ll help you feel all better with our songs!”
“People of the world, the idol group Girls Bravo is with you!”
“Join us for our live internet charity concert stream on the 16th!”
“All proceeds will go to companies who will distribute them to those in need!”
“Brought to you by DreamArts 9 Studios, a Gaoyu Corporation company!’
“Service to the People, of the People! See ya there, dàjiā!”

Good Fortunes and Good Prosperity to all of you people out there watching. This has been Alice Williams for the Global Public Broadcasting Corporation Eyewitness News, your number one source for public, unbiased, global news, signing off.

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Gaoyu Corporation

^{"Service of the People, to the People."}

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Hu Zhaori clicked off the TV flat screen and smirked, “The West is going to be quite interesting nowadays, wonder if anyone is going to try and exploit this little firework display.” He knew the lies being esposed as the truth, he’d used the same tactics before; the supposed donations would be kept mostly to the companies. Sure there would be some generous donations for PR’s sake, but it was free money, any CEO with the right mind would gladly take it, not like it had any consequence to them.

Rising from his leather massage chair, the executive looked over into the city below. His office suite was position at one of the highest points in the Jing-Jin-Ji megacity, a place once known as Beijing that now incorporated several other cities and municipalities to become a megacity that the Gaoyu Corporation was known famed for building. Below the bright neon lights flashed and glistened, taking cues from Guangdong Megacity (formerly Hong Kong) as its liveliness gave the impression that the city never slept. Zhao’s office suite was built in one of the highest towers in the city purely to let him work above everyone else.

“Meifeng,” Zhao called to one of his secretaries, “I’d like to make a ‘generous donation’ to our poor friends in the West as well as organize a bit of a public demonstration.”

A slender woman with (Zhao’s) ideal proportions swiftly came to his side and made dutifully made notes. She wasn’t always like this, but through some surgery and some “mental training”, she had joined the other men and women who served unwaveringly as part of Zhao’s personal retinue of secretaries and clerks, always serving with a friendly smile. “Will that be all master?”

The magnificently carved wooden doors opened up all of a sudden, a trio of men and women in fine waiter uniforms came in holding expensive wine and refined finger food. “Your collation, master.” One of the men holding a wine bottle bowed to Zhao, “Today we have brought to you a collection of pastries and pickled vegetables. The chiefs have prepared a charcuterie board in line with your personal tastes with imported meats and cheese and personally taste tested all of them prior to serving. The wine today is a 1990 Elgene L’Nior Prima Dona , a fruity red wine with delicate hints of apple and wild berries, aged in rich oak barrels deep in the Alps, and served in a handcraft Italian crystal glass.”

Walking over, the trio rolled over a small silver cart and places the charcuterie board at the corner of Zhao’s desk, the apparent “leader” pouring out the wine. “Thank you, we hope you enjoy master.” All three bowed in perfect, inhuman unison and went to a side wall next to a massive silk tapestry to wait.

Picking up the glass and swirling its content around, Zhao pulled the board of cold meats and dairy over and sat down again, taking a long sip with a refreshed sigh at the end, “Yes Meifeng; tell whoever is in charge of marketing and advertisement at DreamArts to make less clingy and stupid advertisements, can’t have our brand spoiled like that due to their incompetence.”

• ◈ • ◈ •

The crowd was livid at the sight of the captured terrorist members but young Tan Yuhan didn’t feel overwhelmed. If anything, he felt just at home in the mass of people chanting for the death of the Red Orchestra members who were walked up to the execution platform in chains. “Death to traitors! Death to Reds!” the student enthusiastically chanted with venomous hate and threw his fists in the air with the rest of the people, flags of the Gaoyu Corporation waving the air like trees in the wind.

He never understood the people who had worked against the Corporation, they had brought them so much good. He learned in school that it was the communist CCP who had made China weak and frail, blinded by their own greed and corruption to do what was right for the people; they just espoused they helped people while in reality did nothing as people starved and died. They destroyed the old imperial system which had made China strong with the Emperor keeping a number of powerful merchants at his side to advise him on economic matters.

A commander of the Red Dragons SDF appeared on the stage, his presence known due to him also manifesting on every outdoor TV screen in the city (helpful considering how large the crowd was). He looked stern but proud, like the kind of man who was a guardian of the people and the corporation. “Service of the People, to the People!”, his amplified voice boomed through the crowed, neon streets.

“SERVICE OF THE PEOPLE, TO THE PEOPLE!” the crowd cheered back with a million voices.

“Service of the People, to the People!” Yuhan hollered Gaoyu’s motto with his youthful voice, whistling and jumping up as many others did. He was excited, his blood boiling with energy, buying a bandana and a small flag, both with the Gaoyu Corporation’s logo on them from a passing vendor in addition to a Emperor’s Kitchen Snack Cake which he quickly tore into.

Once the crowd calmed down a little, the commander spoke once more, “Today. We are here to celebrate the execution of those who defy the will of Gaoyu, the will of the people!” Nooses were looped around the necks of the supposed terrorists, weights soon following on their feet, “This is not for us though. This act of righteous vengeance is for our friends in the west who have suffered a great blow due to the vile acts of these degenerates!”

Walking over to one of them, the commander removed the man’s gag and pointed at him with his pistol, “They may walk amongst us, but we will find them! We will hunt them down and we will bring them to justice. Under the endless charity of the Gaoyu Corporation, not only will we be sending relief efforts and supplies, but also assisting in their investigation and persecution of these terrorists!”

The man opened his mouth to cry “Long live the Revolution!”, but a shot from the commander’s pistol blew off his jaw half way into his slogan spouting. Leaning close in to him, the commander whispered, “Nothing personal, this just business, scum.” With a second shot to the head, the man was kicked off the side of the platform, stopping in midair due to the noose. The rest of the Red Dragons fired their shotguns into the bodies and legs of the other captured terrorists, sending blood and viscera off the platform as they themselves were blown off the edge and were sentience to a bloody hanging.

Turning back to the cameras and crowd, pleased with he and his men’s work, the commander shouted, “Service of the People, to the People! Long Live Gaoyu! Long Live the Corporation!”

“SERVICE OF THE PEOPLE, TO THE PEOPLE!” the crowd chanted back, “LONG LIVE GAOYU, LONG LIVE THE CORPORATION!”

[Dannyrulx]

Hobart~Tasmania
7:35 AM

The helicopter kicked up storms of wind as it landed atop the building, the rotors loudly whirling in the crisp morning air. The rising sun backlit Hobart, the beams of light framing skyscrapers and apartments as it rose up. The night had been cold, and Melinda was exhausted, she had had to wake up early for the flight over here as one of the representatives had suffered a heart attack, and OIF had rushed electing a new one for God-knows-what reason. The bright sun blinded her as she stepped down from the whirring beast, her shoes' normal tapping that they would make against hard tarmac was drowned out by the shuffling of soldiers and machines. Six members of Department Six disembarked after her, their black combat uniforms and balaclavas making them an intimidating presence on the field. The pilot slowly wound down the engine, and helicrew dashed up and down the rampart, preparing the helicopter for wherever it would need to go next.

Despite the time period, it was already warming up to be another boiling hot day, and Melinda was more than happy to be inside once more, both for the air conditioning and the fact that she knew this office was constructed of bulletproof glass- the OIF were even more paranoid than her, and every higher up had every measure taken to defend themselves. She guessed when half of what you knew was top secret information, and you dying would mean that a whole lot of said information would be lost, you had to be more protective of your own grey matter. The company could always fall back on one of her siblings, they all knew how the company ran, but the OIF guys? Geniuses, each and every one of them.

She paced down toward the elevator, she flipped her briefcase across to the opposite hand, fumbling it. Swearing, she bent down to pick it up, the metal casing having clunked conspicuously against the carpeted flooring the building was blanketed in. She caught sight of herself in the polished metal, and quickly checked her face, knowing that something as simple as a helicopter trip could mess up what her stylist had spend time doing. Luckily for her however, it had all persevered, and she examined the job again briefly. The bags under her eyes were gone, along with the minor blemishes that she hated so. Sure, she could get them removed with surgery, but when? She was a busy woman, she couldn't spend days with bandages around her face waiting to recover.

The young assistant who she'd never seen before hurried up to her, dusting himself off before bowing slightly. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. President, to have you here in Hobart today. I assume you'll be wanting to meet with the new director, Mr. Jameston?" The man stammered a bit as he said this, but otherwise remained calm in the presence of one of the most powerful women in the world, no mean feat. "I'm your new assistant miss, James Coalwry. An odd surname, I know..."

"I assure you, I have no issues with odd-named staff. We used to half a half-Japanese director before he retired. That was a mouthful Mr. Coalwry." She smiled, thinking that he would be decent, as long as that stammer wasn't a permanent thing. "Here, you'll need this. That has everything you need to know on Department 5, our Paris Operations, our deals with Concorrant Industries, including the survey station and the SGRS. There's also the Somalia operations, and you need to read up on that now, because we're heading to Somalia to meet with a Gencultura Tech representative and watch our first few mining operations being set up."

"Jesus Christ.. Pardon miss." Melinda waved her hand to dismiss the apology as unneeded and started walking into the elevator, the assistant pulling out the top sheaf of documents and clipping the briefcase shut again, scanning it. "Miss, really quickly, I wasn't given top-secret clearance until practically yesterday. If it's not too much of a bother, what's... Department 5? I'm sorry if that's a dumb question or what..."

"James, Department 5 is our secret service and special operations. Any dealings with foreign companies will involve them, so get used to seeing them everywhere. Oh, and they form our security detail, and that of every other higher-up in our organisation. So yes, you really, really need to get used to seeing these guys everywhere. Officially though, they're just a security detail from AIS."

The man's face went serious, and he nodded, before pressing the button they needed, causing the elevator to softly ding, before jerking downwards, the hypersystem not kicking in for the short, 3 floor trip. The doors dinged again and whirred open, and she purposely strode out and pushed open the door into the meeting room here. Immediately, the whole room stood up, and placed her hands on the wide glass table, her rings clacking against it, before saying "Let's get into this meeting fast.

The men and women looked at each other and nodded, before sitting down, the shuffling of suits and ties filling the room. “Now, we all know what has happened in Europe. But that is not why I’m here now. Earlier today, I recorded a public announcement in which I pledged that our company would be sending over a number of our engineers and a small cash donation in order to help rebuild the damaged buildings.”

The business men shuffled about and nodded, clearly happy that steps had already been taken towards making AUC look like another helping hand. “Now. May I see the new representative?” A young woman, probably no older than 23 stepped forward, pushing a pair of glasses up her nose. “Hello Ms. President. I’m… I’m Carey Nguyen. Third generation Australian before you ask. We've just kept the surname."

[Hostile]

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Damascus Robotics Research Corporation

^{"Seeking new solutions."}

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Somewhere in the vast snowy Canadian Rockies, a massive domed facility of glass and stone sat hanging over the mountainside, looking out towards the horizon of acres of pine trees and mountain ranges, the warm sun reflecting off the light blue lake down below. Conected to the dome were several helipads for helicopters and VTOL-capable aircraft to land, and at the back was a large runway, also hanging over the side of the mountain. Several flags fluttered at its entrance, a large road leading into what appeared to be the mountain itself, an enormous heavy-duty blast door set to the side and ready to be closed when needed. While the building looked rather impressive outside, it was even more so in the mountain itself. Built into the millions-year-old rock lay a vast network of tunnels that stretched dozens of kilometres long, ensuring that each and every room was connected.

This complex was, of course, the corporate headquarters of the Damascus Robotics Research Corporation, better known as the Damascus Corp., Damascus Robotics, the DRRC, or rather simply and embarrassingly, the Big D. It was a massive corporation that practically ruled all of Canada after the Great Collapse of 2031, when the global economy imploded and descended into chaos. Entire corporations closed down, banks went bankrupt, governments fell.

But from the ashes of the fires following the Collapse, the Damascus Corporation stood firm and defiant, refusing to bow down to the force that had abandoned the world: money. It ensured that Canada, the country it called home, remained vigilant even during the storm. Its advanced drone systems helped starving and angry citizens in every way they could. The drones gave out food, patrolled the streets and kept anarchy under control, provided homes for the homeless in the form of massive mobile shelters, and began funding the development of more advanced nuclear weapons.

Within a decade, Canada had been returned to its former glory, overseen by its new government: the Damascus Corporation. The Canadian citizens looked up to the company, ever loyal and grateful for the fact that it have salvaged the country and economy from the burning ruins of the rest of the world. After the Damascus Corporation had taken over, Toronto had officially become the new capital of Canada, the city where the corporation began.

Inside the building, in a large room with slanted windows all around, sat an ageing man in a fine suit at his desk opposite the largest set of windows. He was Joseph Adams, the founder and current CEO of the Damascus Corporation, the one who built and shaped the corporation to what it is today, the one who ran Canada. He sat on his comfortable office chair in his lavish but modern office, scrolling through the news projected on three holographic screens.

In truth, his office looked more like a living room than an actual office, with sofas and armchairs and coffee tables placed strategically around the room, and a large table surrounded by several chairs lay in front of Adams’ desk. The room was well lit, by the sun during the day and automatic mood lighting, and electric lights during the night and overcast days.

Each of the three holoscreens in front of Adams showed different things, the left one alerts, the right one charts and diagrams, and the central one news. Adams took in the data as he scrolled down.

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Canadian News Daily
June 11, 2049

Attack on EEC Headquarters, leaders killed, more than 900 dead

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Chris Lovasv
Head Reporter
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VATICAN CITY, ITALY — The European Economic Commission Headquarters was attacked earlier today in what may be the most daring terrorist act in recent times. According to officials, at precisely 8:34 AM local time, a bomb was set off in the upper levels of the building, before several more went off all around the city, destroying the building and killing almost everyone inside. Given the radius and placement of the explosive, it is almost guaranteed that everyone above the first two floors have been killed.

“I’ve seen blasts like these before in conflicts and uprisings that happened during the fall of the EU, except they were always by a single ordnance, not dozens.” Says the local Security and Defence Force (SDF) commander who wished to remain anonymous. "Whoever did this clearly had experience in planning; we vow to hunt them down with the help of the international community. Whoever did this, we will pay them back in blood.”

Multiple terror groups around the world such as the Red Orchestra in China and Europe Rising have claimed responsibility. A statement released by the former claims:

“We will cut out the cancer that you have forced people to submit to. The will of the people decries the corruption and taint you have spread upon the world with your wicked sins of greed and capitalism for opulence is sinful and we all pay for it. We, the glorious heralds of the Revolution, the Red Orchestra, are the voice and will of the oppressed made manifested! We will liberate Earth and eradicate any trace of your vile taint!”

It is of yet unknown if this group is truly responsible for the attack, only that millions have taken to the streets in Europe in a display of public outrage as security tightens.

With the remains of the European government now crippled and its economy in shambles, the world wonders how the region will react in the wake of this tragedy. The stock market having crashed once again, citizens fear that this is a repeat of the Great Collapse of 2031. The people would have to cope with the aftermath of the attack, even with relief programs underway. Local companies are asking citizens to donate to the victims of the attack.

Meanwhile, investors say that it is now a time to make use of this tragedy and invest in security and construction to assist in the rebuilding process. Experts say that stocks will become more valuable with vehicles, foodstuffs, and other products expected to see a small increase in the coming weeks. For those who specialise in these industries, it is now your time to shine.

Up next: Poutine sales reach a record high
HOME, Page A5 >>>>

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Just after he had read the final sentence, the double doors of the entrance folded open, and a younger man in a sharp black business suit walked in. His name tag identified him as Lucas Graham, Adams’ trusted assistant.

“Hit Squad Charlie Nine has reported in, sir. They have successfully taken out the leaders of the suspected insurgent group.” He reported in a voice as sharp as his suit. "The remnants of the group should be in shambles by tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent. Any casualties?”

“None, sir.”

“Witnesses?”

“Negligible.”

“Good. Tell them that they’ve just added some extra zeroes to their paychecks. Anything else?"

Lucas was silent for a minute. “Poutine, sir?”

“Not now. Just coffee would be nice.”

“Tim Hortons, I take it?” Tim Hortons was another company that had survived the Collapse, but just barely. The once powerful international fast food chain had been reduced to less than a dozen outlets around its headquarters in Oakville, Ontario. It was functioning at minimum capacity when the Damascus Corporation offered to purchase the business for a few billion dollars. The desperate heads of the food company, seeing no other choice, accepted the offer. Now, the company, just like the country itself, had been returned to its former glory, reopening international branches and dominating the fast food industry once again.

Adams gave a smile at that. “You know me too well, Lucas.”

As the assistant turned to leave, Adams spoke and called him back. “Oh, and Lucas?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell the DSS to ready up. We may have a new job opportunity.”

“Of course, sir.”

With that, Lucas calmly and politely turned around and walked out the doors, closing them behind him. Lucas gone, Adams went back to reading the news. “Now, let’s see about those poutine sales…”

[Elgappa]

Bremen-Industry Zone~Northern Germany
7:55 PM

It was a rainy, ugly day at the Bremen-Industry Zone. The early morning had brought dark clouds, and for the rest of the day, it had rained without end. Marvin Kazinsky pulled his coat closer to his body, as he made his way towards his goal for the evening. After a twelf hour shift at the dry-docks, his body screamed for sleep, or at least a little bit of rest, yet he would have none of it. This was far to important!
The big game was tonight!
Werder Bremen was in the final for the Jötunn cup, against its Arch-Nemesis, the hamburgian HSV, and there had been no other topic at dry-docks, then who would win the bowl tonight. Ten years had been past since the last time Werder Bremen had come so far, and this time it had to be a victory! Already a bit to late, the slightly overweight man ran faster, as he finally saw the cheap neon-sign of his favorite Pup, the "Das Eckhaus". Pushing the door open, the disgusting summer rain was left outside, and replaced with the warm feeling of the heated establishment, and the loud talking of the people around him. The air was filled with the stench of overworked bodies, cheap synth-cigs, and the overabundant beer.
Making his way through the mass, Marvin nodded towards a few familiar faces he knew the name to. All wore the jumpsuits of the Dry-docks, and most didnt even had the time to wash off the dirt from their faces.
"´Tschuldigung...excuse me, may i get past here?" For a moment it seemed impossible to find a place to sit, before he heard a familiar voice.
"Marvin, you old Fishhead! Swing your ass over here, the beer gets warm!" Turning around he saw the faces of three members of his shift, quickly moving a bit, so that he also could have a place to sit.
"Well, quite nice from you guys to reserve a seat for me!" The man to his left, who offered him the beer began to chuckle.
"Nah, we had hoped for your wife to come!" Sitting down, Marvin took the offered beer, before taking a deep sip. The golden liquid vanished quickly, as the exhaustion of the day slowly faded.
"Yeah, go to hell, Hassan!" Another witty response seemed to be in the making, by the look on his face, but then all screens in the room began to show the logo of the company, slowly turning into an eagle kicking off a football, and like one, the workers rose from their seat.
"Damn, Werder better wins this, my wife is gonna kill me if not! I bet my whole months wage that we take the cup!" Then the stadium was shown, the gigantic megaplex build in the Reykjavik, seat of the Administration of Jötunn. To actually sit in there, and watch the game live was a privilege of the white collars, and even they could only dream about standing in the loges of the elite mangers, who were of the size of apartments.
The mood was explosive, and all eyes stared on the Screens as the players slowly walked in. As the camera moved over the Players of Werder, loud cheers filled the room, while a slide over the HSV was followed with long boo´s. Then, as all were in place, the referee pulled out his Coins, and a cheer followed as Werder was granted the kick-off.
"GO HOME, HSV! GO HOME!"
Then, as all players moved in position, and as the referee moved his whistle to his lips, the screen turned black. "WHAT THE HELL!" A moment of shock followed, before the full wrath of the workers was unleashed.
"HANS, have you not payed your bills this month?"
The barkeep shaked his head, as he looked at the electronic. But then the company eagle re-appeard on the screen, yet this time not the slim football version, but the eagle with the red heart, the symbol of the company as a whole, before the "BLITZ-NEWS" appeared right under it. It then cut into pictures of a smoking building, with fleeing people, as

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BLITZ-NEWS
June 11, 2049

BREAKING NEWS:Massacre in VATICAN CITY, Women and children Killed, more than 2600 dead

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"In an attack, with a brutality never seen before, Vatican City has been attacked by the foul, communist death-cult Europa Rising! In an mad, drug fueled blood lust, they stormed hospitals, public buildings, and a even a Kindergarten, killing everyone that came across them!" The feed showed corpses, that had been quickly covered with sheets, some were disturbingly small. Then the next feed showed firefighters and emergency teams, running through ruined buildings.

“I’ve seen blasts like these before in conflicts and uprisings that happened during the fall of the EU, except they were always by a single ordnance, not dozens.” Says a local Veteran of the European Civil war, who was wounded during the Combat, and later died of his injuries! . "Whoever did this clearly had experience in planning; we vow to hunt them down with the help of Jötunn Global. Whoever did this, we will pay them back in blood.”

The Bolshevik Death Cult, Europe Rising have claimed responsibility, for this cowardice act of senseless terror! A statement released by the former claims:

“We will cut out the order that you have forced people to submit to. The will of Marx decries the order and progress you have spread upon the world with your ides of greed and capitalism is against his will and you all will pay for it. We, the glorious heralds of the Revolution, the Red Orchestra, are the voice and will of our divine leader Marx made manifested! We will burn your Earth and eradicate any trace of your order!”

There is no doubt about the fact that the death-cult "Europa Rising" is responsible for this attack, and Jötunn Global hands seem once more to be forced into war, for the sake of protecting the people of Europa!

The feed cut towards a massive building, with the eagle right on its front. Countless small bullets seemed to had been fired into it, ye it still stood, strong and defiant. "But in this darkness, there was a beacon of light! The offices of Jötunn Global in Vatican City have served as a sanctuary for all who could reach it in time. Our valiant security, the brave men and women from W-Wsec have held the line against the attackers! Outnumbered, and outgunned, they once more have shown, that the wicked way of the Bolshevik cannot stand against the drill of the most elite fighting force on this planet!" The next cut showed the armored security, guarding the entrance to a hospital, while the next showed a female soldier calming a small child.

"Ladies and Gentleman, please, remain on your Vid-Screens, we have just recived news that CEO Roland Korngold is about to relase a statement to the attacks..."
Up next: CEO Roland Korngold, all channels!

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North Atlantic-1000 KM south of Iceland
7:05 PM

"We are on air in five minutes, sir!"
Rolands eyes moved up, as he took a last sip from his coffee. Letting out a sigh, he rested the cup on the palm of his hand, before moving a finger towards the com. "Thank you, Astrid!"
Looking out of the window, he could see the escort fighters in the distance, one of the most elite fighting wing of the Luftwaffe [Airforce] of W-Wsec security. More so, all three of his private planes were equipment with the best stealth technology money could buy, and resembled in their construction flying fortresses, rather then slim private jets.
Looking at his tablet, his eyes wandered over the news, the real news, not the tainted propagnda the masses would get to hear about in the news, and read in their news paper, and info blogs! Placing the porcelain cup on his table, he stood up, as he walked out of his office, towards the Recording room.
"Quite bold this attack, wouldnt you agree, Asmund?" The bald man, who walked next to him was Asmund Anders, his personal secretary and right hand man, since 2030. Over the last decade he was able to make himself irreplaceable, a trait which Roland greatly respected in personal.
"Well, i wouldnt call it bold as much as i would call to be expected. The Security of EEC was a joke! I am still suprised that it took them so long for such an attack."
Roland chuckled as the door towards the recording room opened. "Well, now the child fell in the sea, and the dices have been cast!" Steping futher, he moved into the circle that would allow for a 360-degree recording of himself. "One more minute, sir!"
"Roland, its fallen into the well! Not sea!" The CEO couldnt resist to roll his eyes.
"Three...two...one....!" The blond woman with the name Astrid Rastbjörk was Rolands Public Relations managers, and in a personal union, also the director of all his recordings. Sadly, in comparison to Asmund she was competently Replaceable! But for the time being, the CEO enjoyed her company.
A stern look had moved on his face, and from a second to the next, he became the "Iron Kaiser" a title given to him by the international media. With both his hands forming fists, he took a moment before he would speak. Many public speakers feared the silence, but Roland knew how to use it. Then after a few seconds, he began.
"People of Jötunn Global, Today, i address you in a state of grief, over all these lifes, claimed by such a horrible attack! Yet also in a state of rightful wrath! A fury that each and every one of you share, that i am sure of! We, and that includes every single one of you, who are dutiful employees of our great company, shall not suffer such terror to go unpunished! For we do no fear conflict, nor do we fear war! We do not seek it, yet we wont hold down!" Raising one hand he formed a fist before taking a deep breath once more.
"This is not a conflict that can be ended on a table, with both sides upholding their honor, for our enemy has none! The Bolshevik is a tumor, on the new order of this world! And like any tumor, it needs a sharp scalpel and a calm hand to cut it out!" Walking a few steps, the CEO again let a few seconds pass, before he spoke once more. "But it also needs an keen eye! We all know, that the breeding ground for this scum lays in the south of germany! Stuttgart, Munich and Ulm...cities like this without order, nor rule! But once more, we must be careful! The enemy is also among us! Your eyes need to be open, for only you can prevent that a massacre like this will happen in your city! So be watchful! Look at your Co-workers and their doings! Find the Bolshevik in your mids..." He smashed his fist against the palm of his hand. "..and crush it! For we shall endure, and prosper!"

"And we are off!" Asrid, quickly moved forward, a new coffee in one hand, and a data-tablet in the other. Asmund, had his own tablet in hand, and looked a the CEO. "Roland, any further orders?" His eyes remained on the tablet, as Roland took a deep sip from the coffee, made from the finest arabica beans.
"Inform the Nassau brigade of W-Wsec to mobilize and to move towards Stuttgart! I want the city blocked in two hours! Then the old procedure! Round up all pacifists and communists, and place evidents for all that we need removed that link them to the attack on the Vatican! Inform both the EDA and Gencultura that we start a great police action against the south german communists!"

Bremen-Industry Zone~Northern Germany
8:30 PM

Marvin and the rest of the dock-workers faces had turned into iron, and the room had filled with a silence of a graveyard. Hans, the barkeeper was the first to break it. "These sons of bitches! The only good Bolshevik is a dead one!" A muttering started to spread among the people in the room, before Hassan leaned forward. "I..i thought it was nothing, but you know this Guy from section-B? The Guy from Frankfurt? Well, last week i saw him read this book..."Das Kapital" i think?" Marvin quickly moved his finger to his lips. "Hush now! Lets not be hasty! Most likely it was just a cooking book...i need to go!" Marvin stood up, as his friend raised an eyebrow. "But whats with the game?"
"Screw the game, Lena is home all alone, and like i know here crying her eyes out for all this poor devils! Tell me who won tomorrow!" He pushed his way out, into the rainy outside. But his steps would not guide him home.
Mavin had to act quickly, before the guy from section-B would tell anyone that the book was from him!

[Mateotis]

The La Défense of Paris used to be the largest business district not just in France, but in the entirety of Europe. Most of the buildings survived the Great Collapse, but its denizens were not so lucky—the place turned into a ghost town as companies fell into ruin one after the other and the district's bright lights faded into darkness. With an important financial factor gone from the equation, the rest of the sectors crashed right on cue as well. The people took whatever road they first could, be it begging, rioting...or taking the easy way out. In these bleak times, people believed nothing short of a miracle would be enough to restore the La Défense—and the entirety of Paris—to its former glory.

All eyes turned towards the only potential candidate. The EDA's whole story was one seemingly orchestrated to become a legend: a mysterious but benevolent organisation, rising from below the ground as if from a prophecy and bringing with them the future and humanity's chance for ascension. Some went as far as to believe they were sent into this world by some divine entity to help the world through the impending catastrophe that was the Collapse. The company itself had always been strangely vague about this question, in fact they too seemed to herald their leader, the enigmatic Visionary as some kind of prophet.
However, no modern legend lasted for long without actions to back up the glorifying hearsay—and Ryan Valois was ready to solidify his place in the people's pantheon. When the economy was at its absolute lowest, the EDA moved its headquarters to Paris, buying up a whole swath of property in the city's famous business district. With that, they became the pacemaker, ready to resuscitate the failing heart of France.

They started working at breakneck speed, amassing all funds and manpower they could acquire and using it to first stabilise the situation temporarily, then pumping almost everything into the fields of industry that were relevant for the company. While experts warned that the burning tempo and the overspecialisation would end disastrously, the majority of the people were blinded by the light of hope brought by the positive changes after the destruction of their whole life. The public support translated into political power which in turn gave the EDA even more power and even more resources, which were also used to fuel the objective, gaining further support... Once the cycle started, there was no stopping it.

A few years later, the government capitulated and so began a new age in France: the age of the EDA, and the age of its vision.

————

EDA Headquarters, Paris - June 11, 2049

Today the La Défense was once again in possession, or at least contention, of its original title. The smorgasbord of skyscrapers and other offices of various shapes and sizes recalled the old world, but a deeper glance assured everyone that nothing quite was like it had been. The EDA's main facility, like an imposing fortress, stood out in the middle. The central tower with its distinct A-shape like a modern Eiffel Tower broke boldly for the sky, while the numerous connecting buildings reached far and wide in all directions, each giving home to different divisions of the megacorp. The centralisation was a conscious decision made early on by Ryan, who believed that the capacity to personally oversee all projects was imperative to preserve the original direction and the purity of the vision. Only when the technology was advanced enough to make long-reaching and instantaneous monitoring possible did he loosen on this policy, which was also the point where the EDA began its expansion into other countries.

But all those events were in the past now. Ryan Valois, the Visionary himself, was in the past now, though there were still plenty who did not want to hear that. For a company built upon the promise of the future, they could not linger in the past for too long, for the world threatened to rush past them if they did. The ability to answer the emerging threats and adapt to the ever-changing conditions while preserving what made them unique—that was what made the EDA the EDA.

On one of the highest floors of the tower, locked away from the hustle and bustle of the work below, was a conference room. One of many in the building, and not particularly special either. Its white walls were illuminated by faint blue lighting and a large circular table with a large holo-projector embedded inside and chairs all around was its main attraction. Yet, today, this room was the single important place in all EDA territory.

Today, it gave place to the meeting of the Adepts.

Five stern-faced people sat at the table next to one another, forming a half-circle. They were the EDA's highest leadership, the company's best and brightest. Back in the day they were elevated by Ryan himself to their position and only answered to him. While originally little more than a honorary designation and a sign of great respect from the Visionary, thanks to their combined skills and talent the Adepts rose in importance and became the direct advisors to the leader and more recently, a great swaying power to their decisions. Their unity was strained at best, but it was no question that they played a large part in shaping the EDA into its current form.

While they exchanged fleeting glances with each other at the table, their attention was mainly focused on something else. Someone else, to be precise. Standing before them was the one person they could not defy. The one who was not the Visionary, but carried his legacy and thus, his authority: Roxana Neacsa, leader of the EDA.

“I'm sure everyone understands the severity of our current situation and how important it is that we make the correct decisions. For now, we have many options open, but once we decide to commit one way, we have to delay the others. Let me hear your suggestions,” she spoke, a once soft voice somewhat hardened through harsh times.

“We understand. The question is whether you truly do as well, madam. Indecision and sloppiness of the kind you have expressed in the last incident is not the behaviour expected from someone who represents our entire organisation.”
The sharp words came from a man in a fine business suit. He was in his late 40s, and the developing wrinkles on his forehead revealed a small and subtle implant.

“It's easy to speak from hindsight, Mr. Calison. I believe you had known no better either at that time, not even with your famous ‘augmented intelligence’. Our time is short, I only want to hear constructive insight,” Roxana answered with similar vice, something she promised herself not to do in important situations. There was no one who irritated her more than Jonathan Calison, head of the EDA's PR department, known in company circles as the ‘silver-tongued snake’. He has never given the woman any quarter, and she was certain he would be the first to pounce for her position in the worst case scenario. With the influence he held over the various media outlets in EDA territory, he was also a very dangerous man to make enemies with and even Roxana could not afford to ignore his words.

“Time is short, indeed. The power vacuum to the east is being filled in as we speak. If we want to have any chance at establishing a real foothold over there, we need to ramp up our expansion efforts now. Unless we want to have Jötunn or Carolus as our direct neighbours...”
Next to speak up was Alexander Rocheford, the German chief of the EDA's foreign affairs. The youngest Adept with unparalleled ambition was known for advocating the spread of the EDA's vision to as many places as possible. He orchestrated the systematic takeover of Italy which involved everything from armed forces to behind-the-scenes subterfuge. The attack on the Vatican infuriated him the most, considering it a personal failure. It was not surprising he wished to compensate immediately by taking on another expansion project.

“By the way, Jötunn sent us a ‘notice’ that they're going to go and round up some ‘terrorists’ in South Germany... I guess that is their declaration that they have eyes on the prize already,” added the director of the EDA assembly and manufacturing teams, who was not as concerned with the current events as the rest of the board members.

“Or they just genuinely want us to cheer them on. Mr. Krongold is a real mystery sometimes...” Jonathan interjected.

“That is actually not the worst of ideas...” Roxana raised a hand to her chin, considering the matter. “If Roland is as impulsive as the reports say, he could really appreciate the support, even if it's only in formality. They had helped us before keeping the economy up, I don't think an alliance is that out of the question.”

“Alliance? With those passionate Prussians? Well I'll be damned...”

“Mr. Calison, I expect you to relay our best wishes to Jötunn as well as a token security force to help them in their...valiant efforts. Make sure the soldiers are not from the newest experimental branch, though.”

“Okay, now that we've handled the smaller business, can we actually get to the main point? The EEC is dead and Vatican City is in ruins. The gross income has already stagnated for three quarters now, this could actually put us in the negative. Especially with all that we've already spent trying to keep that damned Euro from crashing again...” As usual, the one with her mind on the money was Ardelle Ducote, the EDA's financial director. The nature of her work made her an especially important and influential member within the company, but she had never openly taken a threatening position to Roxana's rule. All in all, she was a pleasant woman...as long as the stocks were up.

“What are the reactions from the other corporations?” inquired Roxana.

“Gaoyu sent the European corps a good amount. I'm pretty sure they wanted us to bicker over it, but the other directors were surprisingly competent! We have agreed to split it up with the EDA taking the largest cut—after all, the Vatican is in our territory.”

“That is good. We can't save the EEC, but we can rebuild the rest. This time some of the money should actually go into the reconstruction. We don't actually need to finish on time, just start it. Make sure everybody knows how swiftly we are taking action to help the people. The rest should be funnelled into Project Sovereign.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“All right. Mr. Seishiro, I've heard you bring good news.”
Roxana turned to the overseer of the company's R&D departments, the ones driving the innovation and enabling the EDA to come up with breakthrough inventions on an almost regular basis.

“Yes. Our new partners have honoured our deal. We are currently examining the materials. If their claims are true, we might be able to solve a long-standing problem that led to the suboptimal performance of specific implants in people aged—ah, my apologies. It will help greatly.”
Nagato Seishiro was a brilliant scientist and a pioneer of his own. He came over to Europe from Japan in the turbulent years, before the corporations over there had completely solidified their control and prohibited most local talent from working for the competitors. In the EDA, he mainly dealt with the biological side of mechanical augmentations and was responsible for almost single-handedly defeating the Limb Rejection Syndrome which plagued thousands of augmented people. His extraordinary achievements earned him the promotion to the Adepts, which he still viewed as a honorary title and was often reluctant to get involved in this inner politicking.

“Another piece of good news. Our situation is not so critical it seems.”

“Except for the absolute security disaster...” Alexander shook his head in repressed anger.

“I have already recalled the commander. You will have your chance to talk soon enough.” She took a brief pause before continuing. “Anyway, as I wanted to say. By the time of the next meeting, the effects of both the Jötunn diplomacy and the overseas deal will be apparent. We will discuss those topics accordingly. I also want another set of reports on Project Sovereign. Remember, this is our top priority at the moment. Any questions?”
She threw that last bit in there as a simple formality as there were almost never questions. She did not expect to regret it in the next moment.

“Actually...yes. Not a question, per se, but an idea.”
And who else could it come from, but Jonathan Calison?

“What would it be?”

“The EEC situation. We may be fine financially, but that doesn't mean we can't exploit the situation even further. A personal appearance from a company higher-up at the site of the bombing, in front of hundreds of people, with millions watching...that would really give a push to the EDA's desired image, wouldn't you think?”

“Where do you want to get with this, Mr. Calison?” Roxana glared at the man, but was only met with an uncharacteristic pacifying smile.

“I think that you going to Italy and giving a heartfelt speech to the distressed people would not only be extremely beneficial to the company, but would also cement you as a capable leader to all the sceptics,” he let out a brief chuckle right there, “like myself.”

One could hear the pin drop in the blue-lit conference room in the next moment. The rest of the Adepts all turned to Jonathan, expressing a whole range of reactions from surprise to approval. Roxana froze in place.
“Would that...really be necessary?” she uttered.

“Oh, nothing is necessary. But it would help out the EDA and also help furthering the vision. And isn't that what we all want, Ms. Neosca?”

[Legion02]

Asgard was in turmoil. Everywhere you looked aids and assistants went from office to office. Files were pulled while analysts had practically taken up residence inside the various conference rooms. At about midnight SEER went completely insane. For over a week it assured its analysts that something was bound to happen. It pointed towards a terrorist strike but failed to accurately guess the size of it. The only thing it did say that it could be a level 5 event. So many at the top were roused to sleep. Who, on their turn, judged the threat to be very real and very dangerous. The inner-city of Asgard was completely awake at 5am.

At 6am the first ties were loosened as data was compared. Breakfast was served as team leaders gave their groups a briefing while stuffing their mouth full with whatever the aids delivered. Theories began to take shape at 6:43. The largest one: strategical strike. At Vanaheim, the center of Dreyed and the home of SEER, backup servers were being integrated into the system. Forcing SEER to work harder. At 7:02 it detected digital an enormous spike in digital chatter among certain monitored groups.

At 7:36 Haldjor took the Executive decision of picking the go to scenario and work from there. The strategical strike against an EEC hotspot was deemed the most likely event. At 7:37 SEER started to make projections and predictions. At the same time, the digital chatter kept on increasing. Tension rose throughout the entire building as Haldjor himself came in for work early. Usually when he got called up awake at 6:30 he’d still work from home till 9. However, today he came In at 7:46. Yet his army of aids was ready and flocked at him as he entered the building.

“Einherjar shares are rising. SEER is expecting a rise in contract requests.”

“Dreyed requests additional funds for ORACLE.”

“Future Investment Reports 29 student whose parents might be caught in the explosion.”

“Bank of Scandinavia is holding strong as always. Stock shocks were dampened.”

“Red Orchestra’s claim is loudest as of this point.”

“Einherjar reports that Strike Teams are being prepared as we speak. Mission ready in 20.”

“Social media chimes loudest with #PrayForVatican and #PrayForItaly.”

“The EDA is yet to release a statement.”

“Goayu expressed their condolences.”

“Communist believers are gathering for a manifestation. The end of the march is supposedly Asgard. Mostly poors will attend.”

The steady stream of useful information continued. Haldjor himself never said a word but his aids never expected one. They just kept going, even inside the elevator towards the Executive level. In fact, the entire stand-up briefing was timed in such a way the aids finished right when he entered his office. The CEO of the world’s largest bank first took a seat and a delicate sip of his coffee. Then began his spree of executive questions and decisions:

“Target middle members of Red Orchestra. I want them alive. But pick those surrounded by armed detail. I don’t want bloodbaths but swiftly resolved firefights. They all go on public trial next week. Make sure the trial is rehearsed. And make sure it’s televised. Both the arrests and the trials. Make it look like a crackdown.”

A few aids took the task upon them by simply leaving the office.

“Prepare me a statement, use the hashtag. I want the first half moving, preaching of solidarity and prosperity in whole of Europe. Don’t skimp on telling everyone just how good it is here because of us. The second half must be a clear message towards Red Orchestra. Carolus Holdings will stand as a sentinel of the west. Make sure images of the arrests can be shown. I don’t need context. Just the images. Leave out any thanks towards none-EU companies expressing support.”

Another band of aids left the office without uttering a word.

“I want a list of victims. Cross-reference that list with the students. If any of them lost a family member, all necessary transport is to be prepared. Refrain from telling them.”

Two more aids left the office.

“I want the Bank preparing a central Europe relief package. Throw in everything required. Financial aid, food, security. The whole deal. Make an initial one which I can send out this afternoon already. I want boots on the ground there before midnight. The full package must be finished in 5 days.”

Almost all the aids had left now. Only 3 more remained.

“Let the demonstration happen. But don’t let them inside Asgard. Redirect any in-out traffic away from the main gate. Prepare an emergency statement in case the protest gets too rowdy. Use the images from the Vatican. I want them bloody.”

And so the last of the aids left. Haldjor remained alone in his office. Like every morning, silently sipping his coffee. There were other pressing matters. But they required more refined thoughts. Dreyed always wants more money, often stating a lack of funds as reason of the setbacks. Certainly some of the funds were spend in a rather irresponsible way. But Haldjor couldn’t afford antagonizing his technology arm so close to the initial testing phase of ORACLE. It would seem he’d have to visit Vanaheim soon.

Then there was the issue of foreigners. Other mega-corporations would want a piece of this godsend PR opportunity. He’d have to call the head of EDA to discuss the relief program. As well as see what to do with the so-called help of other corporations like Goayu. Flat our rejecting them would be bad. Yet accepting it would send a signal of leniency. Maybe one of weakness. In this world, nothing was free.

[Mao Mao]

^{Ar-Rutbah, Iraq
11 June, 2049}
Ar-Rutbah was once a quiet town that almost had a population of 30,000. That was until the 2003 Iraq War came to the small and then ISIL forces conquered the town, killing thousands. Their terror ended when the Iraqi Army attacked the town and forced ISIL to retreat into the desert. After recapturing the town, the town slowly rebuilt as more people moved into the desert town. Even know the Great Collapse happened, the town still flourished especially with the help of Titan Company. The growth was suddenly stopped with the return of ISIL and the retaking of Ar-Rutbah. Hundreds of people died during the first days of the attack as Titan tried to defend the town. Sadly, they were either killed or captured where their execution was filmed and posted on social media. With the formation of the United Republic of the Middle East, President Habib ordered his forces to prepare for one massive offensive attack against ISIL forces in the town.

A sizable force for the Titan Company was getting ready for the assault as several Defender-110s and Humvees waited for the signal to attack. The men started to check out their gear to make sure that they would work during the battle. Two howitzers were being set up while men checked on the tanks and APCs. One of the men looked at the town as the lights started to turn on. It was going to be one long night. The man soon heard his walkie talkie going off, talking about the incoming air strike. He grabbed it and listened as the other man said that the strike should begin in thirty seconds.

After putting the walkie talkie back in its place, he immediately shouted towards the group of men to get ready. They grabbed their weapons and additional gear as ten seconds already had passed by. Finally, the men soon entered their vehicles and waited while the howitzers got ready to take the shot. Suddenly, they heard the aircraft overhead as they soon dropped the bombs. Several small explosions could be seen in the middle of town as several buildings were gone. The vehicles drove towards the town as the tanks and APCs slowly followed the speeding Defender-110s and Humvees. Another set of explosions could be heard and seen that were most likely caused by the howitzers. The vehicles were now in the town as they could see the citizens running away from the upcoming battle.

Then, one of the Humvees got hit by an RPG causing the thing to blow up. Immediately, the remaining vehicles took a sudden detour while the tanks stayed behind to provide cover as they fired at one of the apartment buildings. The vehicles now drove a lot slower while they looked around for any ISIL forces. All they were seeing was people trying to flee for Ar-Rutbah. It was bad enough that they did not give the people any warning to run, now there was casualties. The man looked around as he could hear what sounded like another vehicle somewhere. Then, everyone saw the vehicle as it crashed into one of the Humvees. The pair of vehicles crashed inside a deli as all of the vehicles suddenly stopped. It was a car bomb.

All of the men got out of their vehicles while grabbing their gear besides the two that crashed into the building. Then, the car among with the Humvee blew up as some of the soldiers fell for the impact. As the smoke started to clear, shouting could be heard as gunfire was also heard. The nearby citizens started to run away before ISIL forces fired into the crowd. Several citizens among with Titan soldiers were gunned down. The commander took action and ordered everyone into one of the apartment buildings while the APCs attacked. Men, women, and children followed the soldiers into the apartment building while the commander helped with the wounded.

The lobby was crowed with citizens and soldiers as they tried to breathe. The APCs could be heard still firing their weapons towards the other buildings. The commander soon entered the building and saw the group of people. There must of been forty-sixty people inside the lobby as he looked at the wounded. Half of those people were wounded. He coughed as he walked towards the group of soldiers and ordered them to establish a HQ. It was risky, but they could not move without helping out the citizens first. The commander went to work with taking care of the wounded until the medic could set something up. It was going to be a long night.

^{Dubai, United Arab Emirates
11 June, 2049}
The news of the sudden attack on the EEC headquarters in Vatican City didn't bothered the government at all. They were finally getting the taste of fear of a sudden attack that they have to live under every day. President Habib was reading the details of the attack from the Arabian News Network, owned by Jannah Media Multinational. It was interesting to read the details of the attack on an important European city. He then placed the datapad on the table from the rest to read it.

𝗕𝗼𝗺𝗯 𝗮𝘁 𝗘𝗘𝗖'𝘀 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗞𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗛𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗱𝘀

🇹🇭🇪 🇱🇦🇷🇬🇪🇸🇹 🇦🇹🇹🇦🇨🇰 🇴🇳 🇦 🇪🇺🇷🇴🇵🇪🇦🇳 🇨🇮🇹🇾 🇮🇳 🇹🇭🇮🇷🇹🇾-🇫🇴🇺🇷 🇾🇪🇦🇷🇸
^{𝖡𝗒 𝖥𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗃𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗁 𝖾𝗅-𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗌 & 𝖧𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗆 𝖺𝗅-𝖠𝖿𝗓𝖺𝗅
𝟣𝟣 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝖾, 𝟤𝟢𝟦𝟫}
VATICAN CITY—A bomb hidden in the upper levels of the European Economic Commission Headquarters exploded at 8:34 AM local time, destroying the headquarters and killing everyone above the first two floors said the local Security and Defense Force (SDF) commander, “I’ve seen blasts like these before in conflicts and uprisings that happened during the fall of the EU, except they were always by a single ordnance, not dozens. Whoever did this clearly had experience in planning; we vow to hunt them down with the help of the international community. Whoever did this, we will pay them back in blood.”

Other parts of the city also suffered attacks during the hour, killing hundreds. Several terrorist groups have claimed credit for the attack on Vatican City. A statement was released hours after the attack by the Red Orchestra saying that they will "liberate Earth and eradicate any trace of [their] vile taint!” They also claimed responsibility for the attack as well as Europe Rising, a nationalist terrorist group in Europe. Millions took to the streets to protest the groups and demanded that the European nations take immediate steps to stop them for other attacks.


^{𝖨𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗇 𝖯𝗈𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖵𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖢𝗂𝗍𝗒}
Europe has now entered a state of chaos as the uniting force slowly collapses. The last time that Europe entered that state was back in 2031 when the Great Collapse happened. European corporations haven't responded to the attacks yet, but they are requesting donations to "help the victims of this horrific terror attack." Meanwhile, ISIL has not claimed responsibility for the attacks in Europe today. Despite that, President Habib ordered several air strikes against ISIL-held regions. The President issued a statement today saying that 'the Middle East is truly sorry for the losses suffered in today's attacks and will provide any form of aid to the victims.'

Meanwhile, the Press Secretary told several journalists during a press conference that the military are currently activating several operations in 'hopes of bringing an end to ISIL for good.'

[𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗖𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 (𝟱𝟳)]
𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑻𝒐 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝑵𝒆𝒙𝒕...

After reading the article about the attack, the Foreign Minister discarded the datapad by throwing it beside him towards another table. The meeting started with the attack in Vatican City and what the government should do. The first person to speak with the young Quraish el-Jaffer, the Foreign Minister. He knew the companies and the remaining countries in the world well enough that he was appointed as Foreign Minister. And he also has a degree in History, making it easier for him to know the cultures of those companies and countries.

"I could make the trip along with some diplomats to help. After all, it has been a long time since we last visited Europe." he said to the President.

"How would that help us?" Habib asked.

"Mister President, we could finally get them into some sort of alliance to deal with terrorists. Especially ISIL." he held back his tongue, but then decided to speak the 'truth,' "ISIL has gained a lot of ground since their attacks on our cities. I think that we should-."

Habib put his hand up to silence Quraish with a look of disgust. "ISIL is just a threat against the Middle East, not us. They are not even that well-organized. You assumed that they were just because they owned a few cities? Pathetic. However, we do need to reestablish relations with them. Your request has been approved, don't dare breathe anything else. Got it?"

"Got it, sir. I will prepare for the trip then." he said as he got up and walked out of the meeting room, while biting into his tongue. After the door was shut, President Habib turned towards the other ministers and said to them, "Anyone else?"

Ministry of Defense, Nu'ma al-Aziz, said to the President as she gathered the papers, "Mister President, can we discuss about the Battle of Ar-Rutbah. We just got a new development that we should discuss."

"Alright, Nu'ma. Speak your mind."

"Thank you sir." she smiled at him, "The general told me that our forces were surprised by ISIL despite the airstrike. He requests that reinforcements arrive to assist in the battle before we lose them for good. I can issue reinforcements for Jordan and they should arrive by 1500 to provide aid, if you approve."

"Alright, your request is also approved. I don't want any ISIL forces to be alive, got it?" he said to the older minister as she gathered her things. It took a second, but she was heading for the door until the President stopped. Forgot to say something else.

"One more thing, I want you to also issue attack orders on Sab' Abar, Tadmur, and Irbid at the same time. We need to make sure that they aren't resting." he said to his minister as she nodded and left the room. After that, he asked the same question again and waited for a voice. A hour and half of talking later and the meeting ended on a good note. Despite the European terrorist attack, they were ready to strike down against ISIL. If ISIL fades away for the Middle East, then it could cause other terror groups to be mortally weaken. But that was not going to happen overnight. The newly established government needed time to wipe them out for good this time around.

President Habib looked at the city of Dubai from the meeting room windows as the lights were still on. The City of Gold is still shining and it will shine forever after his death with the help of Titan Company and the United Republic of the Middle East. He took the datapad and started to look at it as he left the meeting room. It was time for some rest.

[Elgappa]

Bremen-Industry Zone~Northern Germany
12 June.2049
7:01 PM

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"Darling, could you please pass me the Synth-Choc? And while you are at it, another cup of Coffee!" Marvin Kazinsky face clearly betrayed the lack of sleep, but at least it would also hide his fear and sorrows. Lena, his wife for now ten years, and mother of their two children, Markus and Lily, would fill his cup once more, but instead of the Synth-Choc, she would pass him a slim bottle of Synth-Honey.
"They raised the prices once more for all Chocolate, and to be honest...Marvin, you really could lose some weight!" Lena slowly got up, and walked back towards the small room where both their children would sleep.
Marvins eyes narrowed on the bottle, before he picked it up, and smeared the Synth-honey quite generous on his burned toast. "You have no idea, Lena....i might lose more then just weight, if they send me to one of these labor camps in Greenland!" He muttered under his breath, before picking up the remote for the Tele-screen.
He hadnt found the guy from Frankfurt, but at least he was able to leave a secure message for him to burn the book. Still, he expected each moment that the door was kicked in, and W-Wsec would storm him, arresting him for Bolshevik activity! Then Lena would lose her job at the power plant, and their children would most likely be send in a state run orphanage, to become loyal employees for Jötunn Global.
Still chewing on his toast, he tried to escape his thoughts by resting his eyes on the screen, watching the breakfast Program. Dull comedy, and talk-shows, mostly about some minor celebrities, a program his wife couldnt get enough of. In the background he could hear the small steps of his children, how they unmotivated stumbled out of the bed. Turning his head around, he forced a smile on his lips, as he waved to both of them. "Well, look who fell out of the bed!"
Then a familiar sound came from the Tele-Screen, as his head turned around. Once more the Company eagle with the red core was shown, before the "BLITZ-NEWS!" Logo formed right under it. Then, the BLITZ was replaced with "VICTORY!" and in the background a loud, march music began to play.

---

---

BLITZ-NEWS
June 12, 2049

BREAKING NEWS:Bolshevik Holdout in Stuttgart crushed! W-Wsec arrests conspirators and supporters of the Vatican attack

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"Witnesses claim that the nihilistic members of Europa Rising celebrated openly in the streets, over the success of their diabolic attack on the EEC and the civilian infrastructure of the Vatican." The feed showed bold skinheads, and ugly faces, drinking beer and waving the flags of the past, while cheering loudly.
"Yet, this sadistic celebration quickly found an end, when W-Wsec crashed this party!" The feed cut to a massive "Kaiser-Tiger" tank, rolling through the streets, followed by white armored troops of W-Wsec. "Shocked by the quick response of the valiant defenders of Europa, the Bolshevik betrayed their cowardice nature, and tried to flee the sinking ship! But once more, they would learn the true meaning of "Iron Justice" as the city was by then encircled, and all routes out of it firm in the hand of W-Wsec!"

The next shot was quite long, showing handcuffed rows of rows, of people, mostly resembling the former celebrating ones, guarded by masked troopers of W-Wsec. "The amount of evidence already found by W-Wsec, uncovers the depth of connections, these foul pack of rats had in the Free city of Stuttgart! Two thirds of the City council have been arrested, and the city has been placed by the new military governor of the Region, Richard Bruchmüller!

"The darkness of the Great European war, may in the heads of most people lie in the past, but until we finally have eradicated all traces of the weakness that has lead to this male storm, there can be no final peace! The German Federation, clearly has tolerated, if not supported these acts, and needs to be treated accordingly!"

The feed showed how soldiers of W-Wsec stormed into a building, before returning outside, pushing disarmed Nationalists with them. One of the soldiers presented an assault rifle to the camera, clearly showing the OzSec logo. "But one has to look over the borders of Europa, for this tumor has its root spread wide and deep!"

In an final shot, the main street of Stuttgart was shown, with people cheering towards the troops of W-Wsec, and swinging the flag of Jötunn Global. "But the majority of this old and beautiful city, is just relieved that the chaos of the past finally is over! Many are wary of the weakness and corrupt nature of the Free city, and its petty overlord, the German Federation! This week, the population, will be given a chance to vote! Corruption, Communism and poverty, or stability, peace, and security, as an territory of Jötunn Global!"

Up next: "The Weekly camera! Today, interviewing the revolutionary Director Quin Lee, [Gaoyu Corporation/DreamArts 9 Studios] about his new series "Prussian Blood", and his opinion about the Jötunn cinema Culture!

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---

Iceland
Jötunn Global Headquarter "Wolfsbau"
7:05 PM

The headquarter of Jötunn Global was indeed a sight to behold! A massive fortress, made out of grey concrete and thick, bullet proof glass, had been build to last! Called "Wolfsbau" [Wolfs den], it was the center for all operations of the growing empire of Jötunn Global. So ext rem were the size of this building, that an own Geo-Thermal Generator had to be build beneath it, to keep it heated.
Inside, an army of clerks, assistants, interns and service personal, kept the gears of industries running, be it on the Falkland Isle, or the Svalbard. Tweenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, the center would be manned, and ready to issue orders.

But even inside the center, there was a center! An inner sanctum, only the highest ranking members of Jötunn and the most trusted employees could ever hope to set foot into, the central tower. It was the personal realm of Roland Korngold, and the place he spend most of his days in, ruling over his cooperate empire, while watching over Iceland, and the countless Geo-thermal plants that formed in the distance. By his personal decision, only two of the nine members of the inner council were allowed at the same place at the same time, and so most all meetings were held by hologram.

Roland Korngold was sitting behind his massive Mahogany desk, in his enormous leather chair. His two german shepherd dogs, Alaric and Nelson,were both resting in front of it, while Asmund Anders stood directly behind the CEO, like always a data-pad in one hand, a coffee in the other. Thirteen holograms had formed above the polished floor in front of the desk, and showed not only the members of the Inner council, but also the four CEO´s of the main offspring companies of Jötunn Global. His two eldest children, Walter and Maria, him leading the mining efforts directly from Greenland, while his sister had set up the headquarter of Mjölnir Arms in Dusseldorf, near its biggest production sites. The other two were Konrad Mikkelsen, CEO of Jötunn Global Geothermal Energy, and residing only a few floors beneath Roland, and Rolf Wikken, the CEO of Jötunn Global General Transportation, currently on a negotiation trip in China. The rest were the members of the inner circle, and de-jure the most powerful men and women after Roland himself. Yet, the CEO had made sure that the three military posts were filled with loyal men, and two of the three elected representatives of the employees where in his pocket as well. The only wildcard was the newly elected Representative of the Science-Sector, which seemed Incorruptible.
But there were also the three representatives of the main investors! They preferred to remain in the background and stay silent, watching every move that was mad, and reporting it as soon as possible.

"The dice have been cast, ladies and gentleman! I think you all can find it in you to forgive me for my rush actions, yet i saw it crucial, that we wont waste any time in that matter!" Roland looked over the faces of the great council, and to his satisfaction he could see no sign of protest.

"The moment was well picked, sir!" General Johann von Falkenhayn, representative of the Ground forces of W-Wsec, was a man with the face of a bulldog, and the personality of a wolf. During the European War, he had quickly changed his loyalty to Jötunn, and had proofen to be a man of honor, yet with very little ethics. "With the wold focused on the Vatican, i doubt that much of a reaction will follow, if we can justify it, by presenting "Bolshevik" and "Nationalist" scapegoats!"

"Talking about expansion, father.." Maria Krongold raised her voice, and for a second, Rolands face turned from the "Iron Kaiser" to softer one. Anyone would would analyse the CEO of Jötunn Global would realize that generally loved his children, and even his disappointing third-born Theodor couldnt be cast out. "..the EDA has send us a endorsing message, concerning the "invasion" of the south! They even offered us a supporting force! Well, rather a sign of good will, rather then a true military asset!"

Falkenhayn raised an eyebrow. "French support? My boys dont like the frogs, sir...well, nobody does!" He seemed to want to say more, but the CEO raised his hand.
"I have little interest in your personal feeling concerning the EDA! You will take the force, and place it in front of the international cameras, as well as our own! We shall paint it as an multinational peace-keeping mission!" The fingers of the CEO tipped on the polished
Mahogany. "But this brings me to my main point of this morning! Our numbers are dropping, and our stocks are falling! By helping the EDA to save the Euro, we have chained us to this damn currency, just like the Frogs did!" With a wave of a hand, Asmund placed his pad in the CEO´s hand, who let out a sigh, as he saw the numbers of this morning.

"Mr. Korngold!" Rolf Wikken had been placed behind the bullish shoulders of the Admiral of the navvy forces of Jötunn, and his hologram had to be lifted up, so that Roland could be eye to eye with the dutch man. "May i once more advise to finally drop this relic of old times? The European Union is gone, so why should we hold onto its currency? Yes, a switching back to MARK would be a rough cut, and the strength of this new currency would harm our exports in the short term, but it would give us far more independence! After all, the EEC was in EDA territory, and will most likely remain there."

"Mr. Wikken should remain at building cars, rather then make wild speculations, father!" Walter had raised his voice, and behind him appeared a statistic. "Not only would we single handily crush the euro, we would also burn any bridges with the EDA, and most likely with Carolus Holdings! The weakness of the Euro has lead to an storming of requests for large shipments! If we play our cards right, we can launch a new trade offensive against the AUC!" The grin on his sons face, reminded Roland at the times when he was reading him stories, and going wandering in the hills of Iceland.

"A fair point! We will postpone any decisions in that matter! For now, any support for the Euro will make for an excellent bargin chip against the EDA! For i can see them in need of an ally!" Roland slowly got up his chair, and walked past his desk, before shortly petting the heads of his dogs. "And so are we! If we want to finally annex the german Federation, and solve our manpower problem, we will need international support! The EDA is, with the exception of Carolus, the only company, who could get in our way in our short-term planning!"

With a few movements, another holographic projector rose from the ground, and began to create a map of Europa, in front of the CEO. "With that in mind, we need to focus on our mid-term plan! A re-united Germany is only the first step! Futher expansions will be inevitable, but for that, we will need a secure west!" His eyes focused on France, before enlarging the map once more. "Gencultura has yet to react, but they can be neglected at the moment! Gaoyu would be a second priority! We need them as a market, before the AUC can get a hold there! Walter, i want you to outbid Melinda King at every chance you get! Lets show them the meaning of "Blood and Iron" on a capitalistic scale! China´s market will be ours! Wikken, you are already there, i want progress and results!" Tilting his head a little, Roland focused the map once more on the middle east.

"Maria, you will make sure that the EDA revises a full pledge of support during this crises! Make sure that they get the idea that we are also interested in working with them!"

"Yes, father, i will see it done!" Once more, Roland felt reminded to the time he had to order her to do her homeworks and to study, and a sharp sting was in his chest.

"But there is another potential supporter. Titan!" Rolands eyes wandered up, but Asmund had already another data-pad in his hand. "ISIL forces are still troubling them? Well, since we have our own terrorists to fight, we could as well build a few bridges. Johann, i want you to make an official statement, that the effort of Titan is inspiring, and equal to our own crusade against the Bolshevik enemy!"

The general clearly seemed displeased, but would simply nod. "As you wish, sir!" He was a stern man, who was completely convinced from the superiority of the Jötunn warmachine.

"Futher, Admiral von Speier, you will fly to Dubai as soon as possible, and start negotiations for military support! Maybe we can wake their interest for a bit of naval power, military advisors and the finest of what Mjölnir Arms! Beside, i would like to see a few battleships close to the Suez canal! That should give Madam Paradis something to think about, for Energy is our market! Lets show the tommies that we are ready to fight for it!"

With a deep breath, the CEO closed the map and returned to his table. "That is all for now! Except..Maria, you stay!" Slowly, Roland sat back in his chair, before slowly starting to stuff his pipe. As the other holograms vanished, the sole one of his daughter remained. "What is it father? Anything else you had in mind?"

"Well, my dear, for once i would really like to see my grandson more often! But then again, i know that you dont like Lisbeth." On the look on his daughters face, he could see that she was still mad, but to clever then to wake his anger. It was funny in his eyes, for she was one of the few people on this world, who Roland never could be angry with! "For the second part, prepare everything, so that the EDA will know that i am interested in visiting Paris myself! Make sure that it looks like a "undercover holiday", while in truth, i want them to know, that we are ready to negotiate for an alliance!"

[Tsar Gatto]

Gencultura Technologies Group

June 11, 2049

Executive Director Rowe

Cyprio Prime

George Rowe stared at the screen before him with his mouth hanging slightly agape, the live images that were being displayed of the EEC headquarters showed the total level of destruction and devastation the blasts had caused. He ran a hand through his greying beard absently as the news reporter listed the number of assumed dead before launching into the groups that had claimed the attack. He felt slightly nauseous, he had been in the European Economic Commission Headquarters many times through his life and the thought that he could easily have been one of those killed sent shivers down his spine. The room around him was lavish and stylish, each piece of furniture or decor his wife Helena had insisted was placed specifically to compliment the huge glass windows through which the stunning landscape of Cyprio could be seen sprawling beautifully in the morning sunlight. It seemed pointless to him right now. The Solcentre on the west of the island the arguably one of the most desirable places to live in the entire world, it’s extremely exclusive population housing the cream of the higher echelons of Gencultura’s upper tier citizens. The opulence and almost utopian nature served to highlight how simply terrible in contrast a place the world still was, the news of the morning shattering what otherwise may have been a perfect image in the mind of George Rowe as he stared blankly as his mind turned.

He pushed away the plate of eggs, bacon and halloumi, his appetite quickly retreating as he started to think about the implications of what he was witnessing and the ripple effect it would have on Gencultura. The designer food usually something he was most fond of seemed nothing but hollow to him. Their centres in Calabria, Sicily, Corsica and Sardinia were frighteningly close to the attack and he knew that already waves of panic and outrage would be spreading through the Paradise centre populaces. As the news report started to branch off he slowly shook his head and reached over to the control that handled many elements of his abode and with a quick swipe turned the colossal wall mounted television off, leaving only the sound of silence as he sighed and rested his head briefly in his hands as he fought back the wave of depression that was washing over him. He would need to make a public statement, he would need to delegate a team to assist with what he was sure would become a global effort to rebuild and support those who had lost loved ones and he would need to ensure that the Bastion Group would have enough resources to match the increases in both manufacturing and distribution that would undoubtedly follow the event. He was sure that this would cause somewhat of a logistical flurry as practically every corporation in the world would be looking to get involved one way or another, offering assistance both genuine and otherwise.

His mind went back to the people and what they must be going through as another wave of nausea wracked him. He continued to dwell upon it for a few more moments before he pushed the thoughts from his mind and reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small tray of geltabs bearing the Bioheal logo before he quickly popped several of them out and swallowed them. He shook his head again feeling frustrated at his weakness and inability to focus on the purely ‘financial’ side of things without thinking about the people and the suffering, surly a weakness for one in his position. Once his disposition had been a boon, the Gencultura Technologies Group being considered one of the few real ethical corporations remaining in the world. Of course the higher he’d climbed he’d discovered that this wasn’t actually quite true at the peak, and that they’d been as unethical and dishonest as the rest of them. He’d been taking anxiety and depression medication for years now to deal with the guilt, but as he saw it at least this way he still had more input that anyone else did, still could make sure that he helped who he could if he could. That at least combined with the life he was providing for his family was enough to keep him going, keep him moving forwards.

Breaking his train of thought the huge screen before him once more flickered to life, however this time it showed that he was receiving a direct video call from non-other than Mr Lawson himself – the lack of any form of caller-ident enough to tell him that. He quickly stood and straightened his tie and face before he quickly pushed another button and the image of the man he answered to appeared onscreen.

“Mr Rowe” came the familiar commanding and gravelly tone of his employer “I trust you are aware of the events of this morning?”

Suddenly George found his throat dry as he responded “Yes sir, I was ju-“

“Good. In this regard I give you full authority Mr Rowe, genuine humanitarian efforts are your speciality and I need you to use this to our advantage. I want you to handle this issue and this alone for the time being, we need to be seen as a major contributor. The Bastion Group will be of course taking the lead in our own investigation into this event, Victor is most keen to use this opportunity to further our goals and I have given him authority to do what he needs. Do not interfere in his investigation in the slightest. There will be further instructions to follow.”

“Yes sir” responded Edward as he suppressed a scowl “And the AUC contractors?”

“Still a priority. Their backing is essential with our current plans. You’ll still be meeting them as planned. Miss King would not appreciate if we sent another in your place.”

“Understood”

With that the call cut off leaving him staring at the screen as he again sighed. So the Lawsons were capitalising on the murder of over two and a half thousand people, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Victor wouldn’t care who had really committed the crime, he’d pin it on whomever it benefited him to do so. Disgusting, he thought to himself sourly. Again pushing his doubts away he quickly prepared himself, today would undoubtedly be filled with grief and stress. But at least he had been given full permission to do everything within his power to help those he could and at the same time he knew he could make it benefit the company hugely. The general populace of wealthy Gencultura citizenry too would share in his moral obligation he knew, and this alone would be sufficient to secure the loyalty and love of the huge majority of their population – and it was him they loved, not the unknown and sinister Mr Lawson.

---

Victor Lawson

Somalia, Bastion rehabilitation centre quattuor

The cold steel room was filled with artificial light, the glare reflecting off of the many metallic surfaces as Victor Lawson keyed in his code on the pad before him. Within moments the sensor on the door scanned his biometrics before it slid open silently and he strode into the room with a subtle smirk across his features. The room itself was almost nondescript, lacking any real features aside from a uniform gray colour and a perfectly cubic shape. In the centre of the room there was a metallic examination chair with a man occupying it, beside it was a small table of the same metallic construction.

“Who’s there!? What the fuck is this!” raged the rather dirty looking man that was affixed to the chair as he frantically tried to free himself from the heavy restraints that held his arms, legs and neck in place. He was wearing a Gencultura utility suit that looked like it had seen better days, the logo was ripped from the shoulder and lapel and several stains dotted about it. There was a thick sack covering his head and he had been in the room since Bastion security forces had brought him in the previous evening.

“Mr Othonos” Victor began in his deep tone as made his way across the room to the rear wall “this is the one opportunity you have left to live, to avoid an extremely painful death at my hands”. As he reached the wall he ran a gloved finger across a specific location in a figure of eight motion, as he did the wall beside him opened and a compartment extended seamlessly and unfolded and opened to reveal a array of various implements and devices within.

The man who moments ago had been thrashing and screaming had stopped, obviously Victor’s words giving him a moment’s pause and only his rapid strained breathing could be heard.

“Oh good” said Victor in relation to the relative silence that now filled the room as he picked up a few of the items and moved them over to the small table that sat beside him and began to slowly set them down. “Seems like you may survive yet” he offered as he reached over and pulled the hood from the man’s head in a quick jerking motion.

The man cringed and blinked rapidly several times as the bright artificial glare assailed his light depraved corneas before he started to frantically look around, his eyes settling on Victor’s still mildly pleased expression as panic dominated his face. The man was tanned from work outside, his brown hair untidy and his face cover in fear as he looked around the room desperately.

“L…l…listen friend… I haven’t done anything to anyone, I don-” the man stuttered, but as he did Victor suddenly backhanded him before he snatched up one of the items, a small silver tube with a needle protruding from one end. He brandished it an inch away from his face and hovered for a second.

“Please, allow me to finish telling you the rules of the little game we’ll be playing if you’ll simply be quiet” he started to explain before he injected the man’s neck and the contents of the tube shot into his bloodstream. As he did the man screamed and attempted to struggle, though it was impossible with his restraints and Victor simply continued to grin before he gently shushed the man and continued “If you speak out of turn, if you don’t answer any of my questions correctly, if you say anything that displeases me or scream like that again without cause I shall do this”.

He picked up the second implement which was a rather savage looking thing that seemed to be similar to an antique scalpel, before in one swift aggressive motion he grabbed the man’s ear and half-sliced half-ripped it from his head. The room was once more filled with his screams as Victor simply placed it on the metal table next to the implements.

“Mr Othonos, please also let take the opportunity to point out that’ve just injected you with one of our newest stimulants, so the longer this continues the more heightened your sensations will be” Victor tried to explain, however Mr Othonos had not ceased his screaming and struggling. Victor’s smirk faded very briefly and he again stepped forwards and this time he grabbed his head in one hand and slammed it back against the metal and applied his strength for a few moments as he firmly commanded “Shut up”, which seemed to quiet him to whimpering as blood continued to run down him from the fresh wound where his right ear had once been.

“Where was I..?” continued Victor rhetorically as he regained his smug composure and stepped back “Ah, the stimulant. It is rather wonderful, a real pharmacological breakthrough really. You’ll be able to endure far more pain than a normal human ever could, remaining conscious far beyond the point where shock should have killed you.”

He saw the terror in the man’s expression and Victors smirk widened slightly.

"So, I think it's time we had a little conversation about your little friend Tareq Delatair" he said as he paced in a circle around the restrained man, his eyes following him wherever possible. Victor could already see it in his eyes, in his composure, that Nicos Othonos knew exactly why he found himself here as opposed to still working on the Sol-centre construction site. They both knew that he had stolen and sold valuable security components and secure files to what passed as ‘the anti Gentech resistance’ to the south of their holdings in the south Med. The group was mixture of what was left of the desperate native population combined with the few radicals and dissidents that opposed Gencultura for whatever reasons they had, they were proving to be more problematic to locate and eradicate than Victor had imagined. It was essential he do so if he wanted to continue with his plans for expansion.

He paced around Nicos once more as he waited for any answer, but none came. He stood before him with his arms behind his back, Victor somehow seemed to ooze intimidation – each and every subtle body movement precise and practised. His pristine dark suit and tie with his unaging, unemotional face served only to make him look more terrifying as he stood calmly before him.

This time as he spoke Victor’s voice seemed even more terrifying as he slowly demanded “Tell me how to find him.”

He waited a single second before he again lunged forwards to grab Nico’s head with a powerful grasp as he quickly jerked the small blade into his skull surgically removing his right eye in a few precise motions, the room once more was filled with shrieks and the sound of thrashing as Nicos struggled fruitlessly. Almost immediately he tried to tell Victor what he wanted to know, pleaded desperately for him to stop but he finished what he had started before placing Nicos eye beside his ear on the table and stated “Next time answer faster, or you’ll run out of body parts eventually.”

With that the snivelling bleeding man proceeded to tell him everything between sputtering sobs, occasionally Victor asking him to be more specific about something. Not once did Nico Othonos hesitate, only twice did he say he didn’t know what Victor was asking him and both times he knew it was the truth. Once he had exhausted every single scrap of information from the man he turned and took a few steps away, pulling a small device from his pocket he spoke several commands into it before he returned it. Turning again he went to the table and picked up an instrument, this time picking up what looked to be like some kind of jagged pair of small pliers.

“Wait wait, I thought you said I...I... would survive this!” shrieked Nico’s as Victor approached him again, his smug smirk once more in place. His voice was full of sweet sweet anguish and Victor again couldn’t help but grin wider for a few moments before he replied, savouring the enjoyment of the moment.

“Oh I’m afraid you must’ve misunderstood me. I meant that you might survive to tell me everything I want to know. But don’t worry, we have at least six hours, if not longer together I’d say, so it isn’t over yet.” With that Victor began to use the tool to remove the fingernails on his right hand one by one.

[Legion02]

Somewhere in eastern Norway…
June 11, 2049

Charles Olavson was an elderly gentleman. Yet still very much in shape for his age. His face looked weathered but what really grasped someone’s attention were his eyes. How they screamed authority. Mr. Olavson made men think about an old war saying: beware of old men in a profession where men usually die young. Charles has always been within one army or another. Right now he was the very founder and ruler of Einherjar. A security force that was quickly rising up within the world. Setting standards left and right.

Right now he was sitting in a helicopter with 4 bodyguards not half his age. But each and every one of them were massive. Silence dominated the inside, until the chopper finally touched down into the snow below and the side door was moved open. They were greeted by a man, about 45, standing 50 meters away from them and aiming an old M40 rifle at them.

“Put that away, Mr. Crow.” Yelled Charles out as he advanced through the snow. “You’re liable to hurt yourself, or worse: me, with it. Let us go inside.” When Crow’s eye fell on Charles, he lowered the gun. For a moment the two stood still with a few meter between. Crow gave a curd nod and allowed Charles to pass. But he then pointed at the bodyguards and said: “You stay out.”
10 minutes later
Both Charles and Crow were sitting comfortably in front of a hearth. Each with a glass of freshly poured whiskey. The ice inside the glass was jagged and crude. As it was literally just taken from outside. “Let me cut to the chase, Mr. Crow. Einherjar is not here to detain you.”

There was a stark difference between how Crow and Charles dressed. Mr. Olavson, since raising up Einherjar, began to see the appeal of business casual. Right now he was dressed in a formal suit. His black mantle gave him the look of an old officer. To top it off, the red scarf over his shoulders bound it all together. Mr. Crow on the other side looked like a farmer. One who was now grinning. “Good for you. If you were, you didn’t bring enough boys. Though I’m guessing this isn’t some check-up on me, I’d guess.”

“Very much not. As much as I despise to say it, Mr. Crow, Einherjar requires your particular skillset and connections.” At this, Crow sat up a bit more upright. “The giants in the east are stirring. Jötunn are making moves as everyone is watching the Vatican.” For a short moment you could only hear the crackling of the flames and the increasing howling of the wind outside. After Charles finished his sip he continued: “Your mission would be simple. Disrupt Jötunn’s operation in Iceland, Greenland and Svalbard.”

“That’s a hefty request. What if I refuse?”

“The law of Norway is very clear on extradition of mass murderers. Though I think recently it was amended. Close family are considered conspirators and will be extradited as well.” You could practically hear Crow grind his teeth at that one. He knew he was put in a weak position. But he also knew that the fight wasn’t over yet: “Svetlana and Katharina must both receive Future Investments support. The both of them, they are bright enough. It won’t stand out.”

Charles was briefed on his two daughters. The request was not outrageous. He’d get it through without much trouble. He merely nodded and then continued the briefing: “Next week you will receive a full briefing and all required documents. But I’ll give you the rundown so you can get started. Utilize your resistance contacts in Iceland to sabotage any and all industrial targets of Jötunn. We don’t care about civilian casualties. You will receive coordinates of a large shipment of military equipment bought by Einherjar from Bastion. Pirate the ship. Make it vanish.”

Both men acknowledge that by now, the necessities had been discussed. And neither desired to be in the other’s presence for much longer. As a civilized man Charles walked out towards the door that was held open by Mr. Crow. But right before Charles went on his way, he turned to the Icelandic not-so-former terrorist: “And remember, Mr. Crow. This conversation never happened.”

---

Asgard, Sweden
June 11, 2049
“Yes. Thank you, Charles. Safe travels.” Haldjor put the phone down again. The entire confrence room had remained silent for the few seconds he spoke. Charles had done it. Simultaneously his PR manager was giving a rather moving speech about the ‘Destroyers of Europe’. Though Haldjor did notice the man was hammering a little too hard on tough action. “Remember me to soften future speeches. I don’t want to get compared with Jötunn.” The army of aids there all wrote it down. “Let us move onwards.”

One aid moved up in front of the others. Ready to give her briefing. “Jötunn made a quick move. It arrested alleged conspirator in the city of Stuttgart. The images are… escalating.” She pressed a button on her phone and one of the TV screens switched to phone videos of tanks rolling into the street. Armed, military troops and rows of prisoners dragged through the street. The over-arching theme was grey, crude and unnecessarily violent. After the series of images, the aid continued: “It would seem that Jötunn is once again using violence to reach it goals. Worse, it appears that for the time being, the EDA is desperate enough to help them so they can both curb terrorism in central Europe.” She took a step back again. Letting another aid take the ‘stage’.

“Home markets have remained somewhat stable. Nothing beyond SEER’s predictions. But the whole of Europe isn’t doing as well as we are.” He pushed a few buttons on his phone and several screen switched over to stock market shares. “Where there is a free market, stock has dropped in tourism, social services and most international trade. Security, as predicted, is going up. As well as most insurance company stock. But overall the euro will once again fall into decline.” He took his step back as the screens switched back over to several muted news outlets.

Another, a bit older, secretary demanded the attention: “Titan continues to escalate its assault on ISIL strongholds. Response seems… limited from them. Which might not be entirely be a surprise concidering they have been dealing with terrorist activity for much longer.”

Then another aid took the stage as the first one retreated back into the band. “GenCultura is setting up a humanitarian mission. Considering their history this may deliver those in Italy some genuine relief.”

All eyes now turned towards Haldjor. Who sat in silence for a few moments. Thinking about what to do next. Eventually the orders went out for a second time that day.

“I want two separate orders go to Bastion. The first order will have a budget of 500 million euros. Only equipment, materials and the likes. No vehicles or anything like that. Send over one of our own ships to pick it up. With haste.” Though Haldjor knew very well that he’d never see that ship or those 500 million euros again. “The second is an order of 2 billion. Tell them down at Einherjar that they have to decide what to spend the money on exactly but every cent must go towards Bastion for their products.” Two aids left the room.

“Setup secret roads between South- and North-Denmark. I want the brightest minds that haven’t been brainwashed by Jötunn to get a chance to pick up a new living here in Carolus Holdings areas. As long as they don’t have any strong political stances that is. But keep it subtle. Make it appear as if those people are moving on their own. The last thing I want is Jötunn accusing me of stealing their best.” Five aids left.

“Send whatever support Munich and Nuremberg ask for. Food, water, money, troops. I don’t care. I want those two free cities to remain free. I want invisible pressure on those city councils to redirect their cultural focus towards World War II. We cannot allow them to fall in the hands of Jötunn. Those greedy bastards will gobble up the whole of Europe if they aren’t kept in check.” There was clear sign of frustration in his voice. Another four aids left the room.

“We must re-evaluate our stance with the EDA. God help us, Roxane is making a deal with the devil. The god damn woman doesn’t have a clue what she’s dealing with. Offer her an alternative. Show the images of our silent arrests. Make sure Einherjar is allowed to aid in the arrests of those who blew up the damned Vatican. We cannot let desperation dictate our policies again.”

[Mateotis]

Ryan Valois Airport, Paris - June 11, 2049

Four fighter jets kept the skies clear in the vicinity as an aircraft prepared to launch on the ground below. It was an average sized business jet with a clean white exterior that almost shone whenever glinted by the sun. The EDA's blue logo had its place on the rudder and the company name on the side of the vehicle, but otherwise it had a rather unassuming look.

“Tout est prêt,” announced the overseeing air traffic controller to the pilot, both French. No surprise, after all they were at the country's largest airport, the rechristened Aéroport de Ryan Valois. The name was chosen some years ago after a widely advertised popular vote and became one of the first occasions where a public facility was named after a living person. However, technical difficulties ensued as other corporation-controlled countries were hesitant to recognise the new name, deeming it a simple flair of pride from the Visionary despite his company not actually being involved in the vote. Thus, most official registries still used the alternative name, ‘Roissy Airport’.

“Ready here too,” came the follow-up from one of the fighter pilots in the air.

The green light given on all fronts, the pilot proceeded with the security check-ups, engaged the engine and took off. All this was done with great care, even more meticulously than usual—there could have been no margin left for error, for the jet carried none other than the current EDA leader. Roxana sat in a large leather seat, reclining back with an uneasy expression as the plane steadily ascended. It was not that she was squeamish or unused to travelling as such—the reason for her frown was much different. This was a journey that she would most likely have not undertaken on her own volition. She was pressured into accepting Calison's proposal after it was met with universal support from the rest of the Adepts. Even if the idea itself was quite sound, she knew full well how caving in to their demands was the type of weakness that one could not afford in the highest leadership. Besides, public speaking was not exactly her forte—sure she had made plenty of speeches for company members in the past in Ryan's absence, but those had been mostly written or at least planned out by him and she had only been acting as a conduit. Even after she had officially taken power following the mysterious disappearance, she usually kept things quiet and focused on keeping the giant corporate machine running smoothly.

“We are in air.” Suddenly the pilot's accented voice came through in the communicator.
“Merci, Pierre,” she replied.

Things were different now however and she had to realise that. She was no longer a simple assistant who acted on the leader's behalf, she was the leader. She could not hide in the confines of the tall EDA tower forever. Stepping out into the spotlight and legitimising herself in the eyes of the masses and the global elite alike was the best way to both keep her position and the sacred vision intact.
Having mustered some determination like this, she took her datapad from the table ahead of her and started typing away. While the PR department had already prepared a speech for her as in tradition, she wanted to...make it more personal.

She had about two hours.

---

Meanwhile - EDA main complex, building M

The numerous buildings surrounding the central tower in the La Défense usually served a singular purpose within the long chain of production. The tower, fittingly, was the both the centre and the starting point of the process; this was where most of the theoretical work took place with creative minds from all around the world brainstorming for long hours and creating designs in hopes of finding the ‘next big thing’ that could change the world. From here, plans and blueprints were sent to building A, where their technological feasibility was evaluated and information on any missing links were forwarded to the various R&D departments to be developed and sent back. If the design was deemed to be sufficient for creation, it was brought into building B, where the engineers and scientists began putting the vision into reality. That place was the birth of most first prototypes, which were then sent to their respective divisions where they could be refined and rebuilt for actual usage. Most of these divisions were specialised in one category of implants or augmentations to make sure that only the most qualified people worked on every single EDA project.

Building M was the focus of many news in the recent past, both inside and outside of the company. The teams here had been making increasingly quick progress on matters of the mind: specifically, cranial implants. To bolster this tendency, the EDA leadership allocated more funds to the division, which in turn led to an influx of new talent being brought in. Even now, the teams inside were buzzing with work...

“So...what do you think the name actually stands for?” asked one engineer from another standing besides him. They were in an extended room, both working over a wide table with dozens of miniature metal parts and wires laid out. Behind them were people heading to and fro, lab-coated figures and other staff alike fading into the flurry of background motions and noises.

“Really, Sharner? That'll be the first question you ask from me?”
The other looked over quizzically.

“Oh, uh...small talk helps keep my mind on track. I know it's weird, but...”
Sharner did not look up from his work, but the embarrassment on his face was almost radiating.

“Well they did tell me you might be a bit difficult to work with...”
The senior engineer let out a small chuckle. Jacob Sharner was a new employee, assigned to her through the EDA's mentorship program which ensured that the ‘recruits’ assimilated into the company and adopted the culture accordingly. In the preliminary report, he was described as a scatter-brained computer scientist with sparks of genius that separated him from his peers—truly a typical candidate for the coveted ‘mad scientist’ post. Among other things, she was there to make sure that did not happen.

“I'm sorry...”
The man was in his mid 20s, about five years younger than his mentor. He was of particularly short stature—as if he had never got a teenage growth spurt—and he seemed to wish he could have shrunk even further in that moment. The preliminary report did not quite touch on his emotional stability...

“What? No, I was just kidding! There's a reason you're here and that's because you can help us change the world and elevate humanity. That's what we're all here for, after all.” She flashed him a reassuring smile. Indeed, being part of the EDA—and especially its core branch in Paris—was considered a huge honour and a testament of skill in most circles.

“That...doesn't sound like something I'm capable of...”

“You don't have to be. This is why we work together. You know, to become something greater than the sum of our parts.”

“Right, that makes sense... Thank you, Dr. Raina.”

“Please, just call me Zuiko. Some people over here would rather die than let the newbies use anything but their full titles. But I'm not like that. We'll be working together for a while. Let's be on friendly terms, all right...Jacob?”

“I prefer Jake.”
He only allowed himself the faintest of smiles on the surface, but he felt much more relieved deep down. Prior to travelling to France from his home country of the United States—what was left of it, anyway—, he had heard all kinds of horror stories about the EDA's infamous condescending elitism. He imagined he would be harshly scolded for the slightest of mistakes which would have no doubt led to him cracking under the pressure... It seemed like these worries were, for now, naught. Or maybe he had just gotten lucky with the partner assignments...

Zuiko nodded and turned back to her work, but quickly spoke again:
“So, Jake. To answer your question...I don't know. But I have this gut feeling that we're approaching it from the wrong angle. Like, what if it's not even an English abbreviation? The Visionary spoke numerous languages...or so I've heard. Never actually met him or even seen him speak personally... I wish I would've! You know the legend goes that those he met in person through all those years had all become destined for greatness and most of them have already accomplished it since. Like Ms. Neosca! They say he approached her specifically and told her she'd lead the company one day... And voilà! There she is, Roxana Neosca, the Visionary's successor. Ah, how I envy her...”

Jake listened intently even though she went off on quite a tangent.
“So that story is actually true...amazing...”

“The older employees I've spoken with have all said so. But who knows, maybe one day you can ask the boss lady yourself...” She let the idea hang in the air for a little while. “Anyway, could you pass me the injector please?”

---

Alexander Rocheford, foreign affairs chief, had a busy schedule ahead of him. Shortly after the meeting of the Adepts, he had got informed that the CEO of Jötunn Global, Ronald Krongold himself was planning to make a visit to Paris for interesting reasons. For now, he passed the issue down to the leadership of Arcadia Hotels & Resorts, the EDA's new tourism branch, to determine the accommodation details and set the man up with something good. He would take the reins back soon enough, but in the meantime, he had another matter to focus on. Word came that a team of diplomats from Titan Company, leaders of the Arab world and self-proclaimed ‘Guardians of the East’, would visit Europe to talk about the Vatican incident and a potential alliance. While Alexander was sure that they had other plans for said alliance—dealing with the ISIL threat, specifically—, it was still a notion to be considered and Roxana had given him the green light to aid the organisation of a diplomatic meeting. He planned to involve the other European corporations and had already sent out his aides to contact their representatives.

All that was left to do now was waiting...

---

Over Italy

The time passed swiftly on the jet. An onboard computer screen displayed in high resolution exactly where and which country's airspace the plane was in and how much time was remaining until the final arrival in Rome. Aside from that, the expected comfort features and commodities were all present in the cabin, equating it to the first class of any commercial airliner, no more and no less. It was exactly how Ryan had wanted his personal aircraft to be—without any flaunting luxury like gold-dipped furniture or a whole service staff on board. Technically, there was enough space for four people, but in actuality the plane rarely carried more than two. And even those two were usually the same...

In the moment, Roxana seldom cared about the plane's equipment or past, instead devoting all her focus to her datapad. Typing quickly and efficiently like this was second nature to her, though creative writing was an altogether different beast. Still, she managed to edit her ‘default speech’ quite considerably and with about 15 minutes remaining before landing, she felt much more confident about stepping up to the podium. As she was rereading the final revision, her phone's screen came alive and moments later, so did the computer display which it was connected to. She had an incoming call.

Curious, she walked up to the monitor and pressed the ‘Backtrace’ button helpfully arranged below the ‘Private Number’ line. The device worked for a few seconds before returning one broad result: ‘Scandinavia’. That was enough for her to know that it came from Carolus Holdings, which explained the great secrecy and the fact that the otherwise advanced backtracing technology came up with almost nothing.

“Roxana Neosca, EDA. Who am I speaking with?”

[ClocktowerEchos]

^{GPBC EYEWTINESS NEWS
June 15, 2049}

---

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VATICAN FOLLOW UP ATTACKS FOILED

Tightened Security Measures Saving Millions
- • - • -

In the days after the terrible Vatican City attacks, it seems that terrorist groups wished to use the bombing as a spring board into momentum for further attacks. But not today it seems! Security Forces across Europe have buckled down and made ready with hundreds of new checkpoints, patrols and raids on potential terrorist hideouts.

The retribution of justice has been swift, foul plans for even more attacks on a perhaps even greater and even more terrible scale. Through subtle manipulations with bribes and sleeper agents and informational warfare as well as direct application of unrelenting and efficient force, many in the Security Forces have become “headhunters”, taking pride in the number of raids and busts they have taken part in. Some raids have escalated into full scale skirmishes and battles but spokespersons have assured us that the collateral damage is at an “acceptable but unavoidable levels”. Weapon and security stocks should expect to see a steady rise in the coming months.

Progress on the rebuilding of the Vatican City continues as the donations and materials flood in, stores and malls across the world are running charity events. Volunteers and workers from around the world gather in the smoldering ruins and ashes. Stocks continue to rise in the construction and materials industries as many displaced citizens try to find new jobs and homes; there does not seem to be any attempt at reforming the EEC. Now for a commercial break:

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Good Fortunes and Good Prosperity to all of you people out there watching. This has been Alice Williams for the Global Public Broadcasting Corporation Eyewitness News, your number one source for public, unbiased, global news, signing off.

---

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Gaoyu Corporation

^{"Service of the People, to the People."}

---

---

The morning was soft and warm, temperatures where unusually hot outside for June but Zhao felt none of it as he sat in his air conditioned office suite. Work was going as normal as it could be given the news from a few days ago, there were still papers to sort, orders to give and works to read through.

“Xiao, where’s the new chapter copies from Sinolutions?” Zhao fumbled through the mess of papers currently littering his desk as the child steward came forward to help dig through it, “I told Meifeng to put it somewhere but that woman never knows where to put things!”

“Here it is master.” Nimble hands made short work of the mess as a packet of papers and soon enough, a clipped packet titled “Chapter 11: The Opium War – How Government Regulations on Business caused a War and Crippled an Empire. [DRAFT]”

Snatching the packet up, Zhao sat back and began to flip through it, one of his duties as a CEO was to make sure that only the real facts (or the fact that the Corporation wanted to show) were present in the textbooks. In preparation for the next school year, Zhao had to check the chapters and passages himself before they were to be bought by schools, a yearly tradition that had basically become law. Each year every school or student (if they were in college) had to but new textbooks, throwing out their old ones, to make sure that they always had the most “up-to-date and correct” information. This was the education of future generations the company was playing with here; it was of utmost importance to them that they were taught well.

With only the occasional sip of tea, the next hour was spent carefully inspected the material. A few scribbles, some underlines and the occasional note was made request that this be changed or that be explained or something to be omitted, it seemed like years since Zhao had read a textbook but it was something he put unconscious effort into.

In the midst of reading on how the Qing emperor’s increasing control and restrictions on the free trade between China and England had increased tensions and would cause the Opium War, Zhao’s phone began the jump and dance on the rich wooden desk. It read a familiar but distant name, some administrator or manager who had been put as the leader of the task force to Europe.

“Hello?” Zhao flipped a page in the manuscript.

“Oh.. .u-umm… this is Qian, you said you wanted a report when the group got to Europe?”

“Yes I did, now spit it out. Just email it to me and I’ll look over it soon. Did all of them get to the west? Even the ones meant for the corporate heads as gifts?”

“C-copy sir. Even the ‘toys’ made it there, the rest will be explained in the report. Sending it to you….. now.”

A blip flickered on the desk in the form of a hologram, a simple letter icon with its flap being opened and closed. Zhao put the papers down and flicked open the report as Qian hung up, Qian was a good manager but a good person, something which might cause issue later on. He was a promising individual but with too strong a moral code to really fit but it didn’t bother Zhao too much. If Qian was found to be too troublesome he’d either be removed completely or just given “therapy” to become like Meifeng and the other servants.

The bright letters jumped up, several thousand volunteers and other “volunteers” with an accompaniament of several dozen Red Dragon forces should have been more than enough for the project and PR. At any rate, the CEOs should appreciate his gifts to them, even if they wouldn’t personally use them Zhao was sure someone in their chain of command would be more than happy with a Christmas-in-June present. With that matter settled, Zhao looked back on his manuscript but also the computer, trying to decide what was more important. In the end, he pushed away the papers, giving them a lazy stamp of approval before looking at the computer. The time seemed right to play with some stocks, with any luck he would be able to start pushing into Europe. It didn’t take long after that more servants entered with their own laptops entering the game of stocks and several accounting departments as well. Zhao was going to make a push into Europe, just to afford the people of Europe some Chinese hospitality and safety under his own wing if nothing else…

[Mateotis]

Over Rome - June 11, 2049
with @Legion02

“Alexander Christopherson. Einherjar Security Solutions.” The man on the other side introduced himself. She probably never heard of him and Alexander could hardly blame her for that. He wasn’t particulary a grunt. For a matter of fact he did know Mr. Olavson a bit. The man offered his phone number, saying Alexander could always call him if he needed something fixed. Still, he was nothing more than a Special Agent right now.

“I’m calling at the behest of Mr. Olavson.” Charles never gave the order to call Miss Neosca. At least not directly. If the man had followed the digital trail he’d see it passed through 5 different levels. But it came all the way from the top. However, doing that was way above his paygrade. “He wants to offer his condolences. Assuming that you’ve lost colleagues in the bombing. He also wants to extend his support.”

“Thank you. But I am certain this is not the only reason for your call, Mr. Christopherson.”

“You're right, it's not. As you may know, Einherjar stands undefeated in urban policing, crowd control and anti-terrorism. Einherjar would like offer these services. Free of charge.” It felt like sales pitch. The fact that one of their sales managers was sitting next to him, listening in on the phone did not help.

“Yes, I am aware of your company's achievements. Everyone is. Which is why I can tell you that if we were in urgent need of your services, it would have been us taking the initiative.” She wanted to establish the fact that the EDA's security situation was not as dire as some companies, particularly the perfectionist and often patronising Carolus Holdings, believed. “We would have also cut the middle-man and made a deal straight with the people in charge of said operations. Why is that that Mr. Olavson resorted to such...unnecessary hoops?”

One of the many reasons why Alexander was picked (unbeknown to himself) was because he didn’t dance around the stuff. Especially when he got an all clear. For a moment he looked at his superior with a doubtful gaze. The lady in charge knew immediately what it meant and gave him a yes. “I’m afraid that Mr. Olavson is currently unable to call you himself. As he is on an important business meeting.” He said in a very casual tone. But the call started to gather an audience around him as word travelled around. “I understand that you may not have had the time to contact us.” He thought he’d get a deadly gaze from his superior when he said that one as she now too was listening in on the conversation. But instead she gave him a thumbs up. “But we both know that you require certain solutions for a problem.” He needed something. Something to convince the lady that she needed them.

Right then the TV switched to the recent arrest footages of Einherjar. It were neat, tight and very clear images. Some showed the neat rows of prisoners put on the street ready for transport. Their hands and feet tied and with their faces down. While the anti-terrorist forces patrolled in between. Other images contained casings on the ground and bullet holes in the walls. As a cherry on top they showed 2 severally injured terrorists being transported to a nearby hospital under armed escorts. One was clearly beating and bruised. The result of a direct confrontation with a exo-skeleton powered fist. The other one had 2 deep bullet wounds in his stomach. Everyone but the terrorists were calm and controlled. But like whipped cream right on top of everything the last image closed off with a Berserker. The elite among the anti-terrorist forced. Those covered in armor plates from top to bottom. The plates however, were clearly scratched with bullets. But the man inside the armored seemed to care little. “That solution is currently being shown on Northern Lights News. I suggest you give it a quick view.”

“Let me see,” she replied in the affirmative to the operative's request and put the call to the side to bring up the mentioned TV feed.
She saw exactly what she expected to see from a Carolus-controlled channel: stills and moving shots edited together neatly as a showcase of the professionalism Einherjar, the company's famous security detail, prided itself on. They indeed seemed more organised and effective than most other law enforcement forces, while keeping their matters surprisingly clean and humane.
“Yes, that is indeed impressive.” She pulled the line back on once the ‘news report’ was over. “I also understand that Mr. Olavson no doubt has a hectic schedule ahead of him. So do I—which is why I wish to propose further discussion on the matter once I have myself some free time. Tomorrow should suffice.”

The sales manager quickly tapped a few keys while several aids started typing on their computers. A moment of silence dominated the phone call. Until the manager pushed a pad with certain information before the nose of Miss Neosca. “I agree. How about dinner? I will assume you are familiar with Palazzo Manfredi’s Aroma restaurant in Rome? We have a table booked for two at 7 o’clock.”

“I may consider it.” She did not want to get to anything concrete now, especially with minutes being away from her flight.

“Thank you. Have a happy flight.” In a final showcase of Carolus superiority he ended the call himself. After which a loud cheer erupted within the office.

Still it seemed to be enough for the operative, who ended the call as sudden as he started it. Roxana let out a stifled sigh as she put the display back on idle. The fact that both Jötunn and now Carolus seemed to be willing to negotiate an alliance for whatever gains was as intriguing as it was dangerous. Playing both sides was a manoeuvre the EDA had successfully pulled off in the past, but with the power balance in Europe shakier than ever, she feared that it might not have been an option anymore. Eventually, she—and with her, the company and all its territory—would be forced to reveal their true allegiance.

“Approaching landing zone.” The pilot broke the silence that sat in, announcing the jet's arrival in Rome.

That day was still far. For now, she had one thing to focus on.

---

Vatican City - June 11, 2049

“Status report.”

“Units in position.”
“Perimeter secured.”
“All movement in area is monitored.”
“Suspicious individuals in area marked and are being watched.”
“Stage set.”

“Excellent.”
A satisfied smirk sat out on the face of Cassandra Lockheart before she lowered the visor of her helmet, covering up her entire face. She was just arriving to the Vatican by helicopter. Today was her day to shine and she wanted everything to go as perfectly as possible. As captain of the EDA's elite task force assembled from the best secret service agents of Western Europe, ensuring the company head's absolute safety was her duty.

“The Dreamer has landed,” came the report she has been truly waiting for. ‘Dreamer’ was not the name of the plane, as one might assume, but a codename for Roxana herself. Among all EDA branches, the military was the most fervent user of the ‘Visionary’ moniker of the previous leader and carried the practice along with the unlikely succession.

“Right on time. Alpha, Bravo—you're the escorts. Cover the car tight. People shouldn't even see it. Also, I want snipers on every rooftop along the way. Move it!”
Cassandra took no chances. Not this time.

The extreme precautions paid off and the journey from the closest airport in Rome to the scene of destruction in Vatican City went without a hitch. Roxana stepped out of the car, datapad in hand, to the unified salutations of a long row of EDA soldiers, all of them clad in the same sleek white armour with black linings. These outfits were full-body and left nothing exposed, concealing the extent of augmentations most of the people wearing them were equipped with.

Roxana walked up to the stage with a stern face that hid any signs of anxiousness dwelling within her. Only when she was actually up there could she observe how many people were there in the audience. Despite the little announcement preceding the speech, there were hundreds gathered in front of the podium which itself was set up in front of the destroyed EEC building. More importantly though, there were dozens of cameras, either grounded or drone-mounted and hovering in the air, their lenses primed at the EDA leader. It was an unforgiving judge, the public eye. She knew that any mistake would be ruthlessly spun by the other corporations' PR machines to paint her in the worst light possible.

So, she would make no mistakes.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we stand before a great tragedy. A tragedy that not only manifests in the physical destruction we see here, but goes beyond that: into the hearts and minds of all the people who have lost someone or something of value. I know what it feels like. To...lose a piece of your heart overnight, without any forewarning or chance for closure. There are very few feelings worse than that.” She looked over the crowd. Many's heads were lowered, others looked back at her with sombre expressions. Now it was time to turn the spirits around. “Yet...there is something else such a disaster presents you with: a challenge. A challenge to rise above the obstacle life has thrown ahead of you and come out stronger than before at the top. This is the core philosophy of the EDA, this is what we do: constantly rising to unknown heights, chasing transcendence. I have no doubt people want to follow tomorrow's promises as well, but for that they need to be given a stable ground to stand on, to begin their ascension. We have only humanity's best interests at heart, which is why we will provide just that for everyone who is willing to accept. We will rebuild the destroyed, reforge the broken and right the wrongs of this tragedy. We will bring this world along with us. Into the future!”

She raised a clenched fist and took in the roar of applause with a sigh of relief. Though she read most of it word-for-word off of the script she had written on the plane, she was still satisfied with her delivery and execution. The gathered people seemed to take her words to heart as well—and that was her main goal, giving the impression of a leader who cares about, or at least includes the common folk in their schemes...

————

Cassandra watched the speech from the sidelines, content with the proceedings. Nothing happened so far, no effort to sabotage the gathering or make an attempt on the leader's life. Of course, the Dreamer did not have to know that—she only had to recognise the immaculate work of the secret service keeping her safe. From there, the captain was sure that she would be considered a candidate to replace the failed colonel who was currently on his way to be questioned by the Adepts for allowing the EEC's destruction to happen in the first place. This was the main motivation for her work today and this was also the reason she suddenly grew irrationally irritated when she heard the following report:

“Captain Lockheart, we have spotted a foreign military unit landing some five hundred metres away from the stage. Initial recon suggests they are Einherjar operatives. Small group, but well-equipped. Delta team is moving to intercept.”

“Einherjar? Approaching so openly is not their style... What the hell could they want?” She was already on the move, hurrying in the direction pinpointed to her. “Attention Echo One to Six, your new orders are to coordinate with Delta and surround the foreign soldiers. Only engage if provoked. I'll be there shortly.”

————

Roxana Neosca walked off the stage with a statement to the rest of the world: the EDA had a new leader who had plans of her own that went beyond following what the Visionary laid out for the company. That was what could be deduced from her further statements, at least. Considering how Ryan had not held a public speech for more than five years before his disappearance, the nature of the EDA's plans have always been incredibly secretive. What she revealed now could have been old projects or completely new developments. Still, the promise of a more open and approachable CEO was an interesting one, and this was the desired image...for now.

She headed back into her waiting car through the same row of soldiers, where she was handed another datapad with the press release to be published and aired on every EDA-affiliated network. She approved the draft with glee as it was another, if only moral, victory against Calison who usually handled all the company PR. This time, he would not have a hand in her portrayal. And that was...quite relieving for her. She lay back comfortably on the back seat and the chauffeur was already on the way to the airport.

What she did not know was that someone had another plan for her, which was thwarted by timely intervention of Cassandra and her unit. She approached the leader of the Einherjar operatives who claimed that he only wished to speak with Roxana about a prearranged deal. While protocol was to forward the request to the boss once her speech was over, the captain did not want to...inconvenience her and potentially hurt her chances in the race for the top. She told the soldier that it was not the appropriate time and place and that he would have to seek out company leadership in the traditional way.

With another job well done, she too headed back. She oversaw the crowd until it peacefully dispersed, then took the helicopter once everyone aside from the garrison units have left. On the journey, she began composing her own report to Roxana, which would hopefully be the first step of her ascension...

[Sadko]

Priozersky village, Chairman Granatov's summer cottage. 10:20 PM

Nadia was his personal masseuse. It wasn't a professional relationship, in the sense that they slept together; often and passionately. They could converse about many a thing, and in not just one language. After all, she finished Yerevan's philological institute with excellence and could easily serve as an interpreter for him.

Granatov did not want to put her in the spotlight, though - it was the reason that she had traveled in a black sedan with a mute driver supplied by the federal security agency, Gerasim. He wanted her to be safe, even if she was in the safest bastion there could be; and yet, was it? Philip knew well how his predecessors thought their power to be absolute and found themselves either discredited or dead. By his hand, too. He mentally sized up the board of directors, trying to find men of cunning and men who could dare.

'Nadenka,' he cooed, outstretched on the bed with the busty Armenian's feet gently pressing down on his back, massaging the knots away with her soles. 'Mm?' she echoed back, just as brief. 'What is better,' he sighed, bones cracking under her toes, 'to have a council full of yes-men,' he continued, 'or men who aren't afraid to speak their mind?'

She chuckled, toes shifting over his pelvis. 'Is this a rhetorical question, or did you make me your new advisor?'

'I could, if you wanted to.' He regretted the phrase as her methodical motions ceased for a moment, only to continue a moment later, trying to formulate a response. 'I think that job would be.. too high profile.'

'High profile my ass, Nadia. You're basically my psychoanalyst at this point, you don't think someone would want to have you tell what's inside my head?' He felt the weight of her body taken off his back as she knelt down beside him and kissed his forehead. 'Even I don't know, baby.'

-----------------------------

Saint Petersburg, GAZPROM General Shareholders Meeting 9:56 AM

The room was of a corporate spirit, sterile and laid with grey carpeting, generic calendars and boring cactus plants on the walls and windowsills.

The men seated around the table were dressed in crisp, black suits. As was the custom, everyone arrived ten minutes before the schedule.

'You saw? Karimov bought a tie for three k's.'
'Ha, that chump. I know a place where you can buy one for five.'

Another man dropped his pen, bending down under the table and brandishing an elongated silver spoon, pressing it to his nostril and getting a whiff of some Nicaraguan coke.

Philip entered, finally. 'Good morning, gentlemen. Don't stand up.' He assumed his seat at the head of the table.

'You saw the news, I hope.' The men nodded. Granatov continued, glancing to the head of FSG, Vladislav Korotayev;

'What intel have we gathered?'
'Little to none. It's all kept at a too high level for our european operatives.' The stocky man answered.

The PR Manager, Boris Kuptsov, an aging man meticulous in his demeanor, perked up.

'We can set up some charity, for a good image.'
Philip smiled, sipping black coffee from an oriental ceramic cup. 'I've got a better image in mind. Do you know the history of the modern world?'

The shareholders looked around uneasily. Granatov smiled bigger.

'See, Bush and Putin, amongst others, orchestrated or at least used terrorist attacks as a reason to fuck someone.'

'We could do that,' Korotayev agreed, 'but whom?'
'Romanians.'
'Why Romanians? The Balkans are a shit land. They don't have any resources, although Romania has some oil.'
'I'm more interested in the Danube.'

--------------------

Afanasy Akulov was a seasoned director, now the chief editor of Rosmedia by the big guy's grace. He walked through a white corridor side by side with an aide and a teenage actress, already dressed in an ethnic eastern european dress.

'So, you mean I can't put this on my resume?'
'No, and you can never tell anyone about this. Sign this.'
She did, confused more than ever.

The aide opened the door to a soundproof, professional studio, revealing a one sided mirror to the back and remotely controlled film cameras gazing at the greenscreen. The aide gave her a bag of potato crisps.

Akulov bent down slightly to be face level with her. 'I want you to go the edge of the room, and run toward the camera with this bag in your hands, as if you were holding a baby. I want you to look frightened.'
The girl did as instructed.

------------------

Philip stood beside the screen as a team of footage editors carefully executed commands. Conrad Bruwer, Granatov's head of security, was smoking a tiny joint behind them.

'Zoom into her face. I want to add tears and scratches. Yeah, that's good. Now, zoom out.'

The screen was now a running, crying girl with a bag of crisps in her hands, the landscape around her a blank slate.

'I want a village behind her. Make some buildings burn, and place some dead bodies on the ground.'

Black smoke billowed in the distance, and bleak oak huts materialised soon after, along with vector images of dead people.

'Now, about the bag. I'm thinking a brown puppy. Hm.'
'Maybe a white kitten?' Bruwer croaked, passing Philip the blunt.
'.. Yeah, make it a white kitten.'
--------------------

Just in, the terrorist trail leads to the Balkans; deputy chief of FSG Prokhorov - 'These bastards are Romanian.'
Gazprom has reasons to believe that the insurgents may have transported bomb making devices by boat on the river Danube. Combat footage recorded by a drone shows a young Romanian girl clutching her kitten and running from the village where extremists have killed her friends and family. These images shocked people across the world as millions pray for a peaceful resolution. 14th and 53rd Motor Divisions have mobilized and are passing through the Ukraine-Moldova border. I am Maria Panina, Rosmedia TV. Over.

[Elgappa]

Iceland
Jötunn Global Headquarter "Wolfsbau"
3:45 PM, June 15, 2049

Roland Korngold took a deep sip from his cup, before he picked up the Data-pad, Asmund Anders had placed there a mere moment ago. "The results of the election in Stuttgart, Roland. 74 Percent have voted for an annexation within this year, quite a good result, i might ad!" The CEO kept his eyes focused on the pad, while taking another deep sip. "But it shouldn't surprise you, Roland, should it? All who were truely against it are now on their way to Greenland Work Camps. Well, to the victor the spoils, aye?" There was a slight note of disapproval in the tone of his voice.
The CEO slowly placed his cup on the table, before letting out a long sigh. "Asmund, i know that you dont always approve of my actions, and the last thing i want is to rekindle a second Euro-War, but we have little choice in that matter." Rolands fingers danced over the pad, while opening new statistics. "We can only fill two thirds of all open White-collar jobs outside of Europa! The Falkland Islands are basically manned by handful of engineers. We need that manpower of southern Germany, we need the universities of Heidelberg and Munich, and by god, we need it fast! If that means that we have to round up a few Swabians Bolsheviks, then so be it!" His fingers moved from the pad back onto the Mahogany desk where they tipped quickly. "During the Euro-War we missed out the chance to wipe out the German Federation. Today we pay for this mistake tenfold!"
Asmund opened the hologram quite quickly. "Munich and Nuremberg have joined a coalition against any expansion from our side. They have the whole remaining power of the German Federation in their back! As well as..." With a quick movment of his fingers, a video was opened, showing a satire program from the "Free Channel Bavaria".

"NEIN NEIN NEIN! GERMANIA WILL BE ALL MINE!" The actor had been clearly dressed up as Roland Korngold, but his famous mustache had been replaced with a clear nod to Adolf Hitler. Jumping around like a unbehaving child, he screamed and smashed his fist against a map of Germany, over and over again. "BRINGEN SIE MIR SOUTHERN GERMANY! NOW! ONE REICH! ONE PEOPLE! MINE!" Pictures of Stuttgart were shown, how people were pushed out of their homes, and how tanks rolled over the streets. Then a voice came out of the off. "People of the Free Germany! Once more a Psychopath tries to get hold of our homeland!" A cut followed, placing a recording of Hitler next to a speech of Korngold. "But not this time, Korngold! Bavaria will not fall! Liberty of death! Join the Freikorps now!".

Korngolds face betrayed not a single emotion, as Asmund continued. "They send similar ads in Nuremberg, Ulm, and the whole of the Federation as well! They also get quite generouse donations in arms, food and money from a unknown source! We cant say it for sure, but a good bet would be that a major cooperation has its finger, if not the whole hand in this."
Korngolds hand had taken hold of the cup, but then he let go of it, and slowly got up his chair. His both dogs followed him around, as he wandered in his office, towards the large windo, that took one whole side of the room. Looking out, his hand wandered on the glass, as he took a deep breath. "Asmund! See that we find out who is supporting this! At the same time, send Falkenhayn new orders! I want W-Wsec to take position at the borders, but not a single step more! At the same time, i want that the "Brandenburger" Commandos, are transferred from Indonesia, back home! They are of more use in Munich and Nurnberg."

Asmund had already his hand on his Data-pad, before he looked up once more. "There is one last point for Today, Roland! GAZPROM slowly, but steady becomes to much of an Issue to further ignore! It seems like Jötunn isnt the only Cooperation interested in further expansions!"
Korngold slowly turned back around, before moving over to the Massive bar that stood in his office. A little known fact was that it had a secondary use as a covering in case of an assassination attempt, and behind the fine wood, was half a meter of thick, solid steel. Filling a glass with cognac, opened another Hologram. "So they want the Balkans now? That is Carolus Holdings Backyard, as well as ours!" Taking a short sip from the Glass, Korngold, turned back to his assistant, before looking into the light brown inside his glass. "But more important, it is the key to the Danube!" With a quick movment of his hand, he opened a map, before pointing at the River. "Not that we had much intrest in that River! Our heavy industry is on the coast of the Atlantic ocean, but if GAZPROM holds it, they can easily get a grip on our balls....new order for the Brandenburger Commandos! The Wolf Battalion is to be brought back to central Germany, Commando Fenris shall make its way to the Balkans, and make connections to local governments and Milita! No direct attacks on any forces from GAZPROM, they watch for now, nothing more."
Asmund nodded, before closing the windows on his Pad. "Is that all, Roland?" The CEO nodded, his eyes still on the glass in his hand. Turning around, the Assistant was halted as Korngolds voice once more was raised. "Wilhelm's third Birthday is in two weeks! Make preparations to have him and Lisbeth flew in! I missed his second birthday due to the Coal Bubble crisis...that wont happen again!" Asmund coudnt hide his smile, as he pulled out the pad, to make arrangments for a flight to Iceland. "I shall see it done, Roland!"

[Tsar Gatto]

Gencultura Technologies Group

June 15, 2049

Victor Lawson

Maroch Prime Solution Centre, Bastion facility Tribus

The Bastion Group facility within the Maroch Prime Sol centre was a state of the art high tech facility that extended deep underground, housing their most sinister experimental divisions. It was also one of the locations that fell directly and exclusively under Victor Lawson, reporting to no other part of the company and as such he used it to house many of his ‘projects’ and launch his ploys from.

He sat within a luxurious black armchair, a holographic display floating mere inches above him which he was manipulating to change the display over and over. He paused to watch the ‘heartfelt’ speech that fool Rowe had made several days ago, his lips twisting into a bemused sneer as he did. Closing the link before it had finished he dismissed the thought, after all he paid little heed to exactly what the ‘Director’ of the company was doing. His father had the joyful responsibility of watching that little bleeding heart and making sure he didn’t do anything too stupid. If it was up to Victor he’d be replaced by someone far more complacent, but that would come soon enough.

There was a beep in his ear which told him he had an incoming call, which seconds later he accepted.

“Mr Lawson, the second Einherjar order has been dispatched” reported the voice quickly “as foreseen orders have increased sixty-eight percent domestically and ninety-one percent internationally.”

“Good” he replied “and project Speculo?”

“Proceeding to schedule” came the reply.

“Is Mason’s strike force on route?”

“... yes” came a slow response.

“Hesitation?” asked Victor darkly.

“Imperator Mason’s team was delayed. They came across a hostile encampment and identified a few... tourists, that had fallen into their hands. They extracted them before continuing, they are two hours behind.”

Victor Lawson digested this briefly before he replied “understood” and ended the call. It seemed he was surrounded by those that let emotion stand in the way of progress one way or another. He sighed to himself, at least it was only a two hour delay – there would be little real repercussions but none the less it irritated him. He placated himself with the fact that regardless the head of the anti- Gencultura ‘rebels’ would soon be within his custody and with that he would be able to utterly crush them. Once he had removed the last real obstacle to further expansion on the African continent all that would be left would be to mop up what was left of the native populations. Once the governments had fallen the little order that had existed had melted away and numerous despots and chaotic groups had destroyed each other, leaving the majority a harsh lawless wasteland – but soon that would all change. His father foresaw Gencultura turning the entire continent into a breadbasket for the world, its small population being wiped out or absorbed into the cosmopolitan culture as their Sol-centres expanded. Victor couldn’t see an issue with his plans, other than their rather limited scope. He would ensure that the resources of the continent were seized and utilised by Bastion. With resources and the successful completion of Project Speculo he would have the world at his fingertips, and his ambitions reached much further than what he saw as practically the poorest continent on the planet.

Mr Lawson

Domus Corde, Troodos Mountains

Charles Dante Lawson stood and gazed into the roaring flames within the colossal fireplace that dominated this part of the room. He was surrounded by opulence, art and decor of the highest quality adorned every inch of his home. He moved back away from the fireplace and made his way back through to the lavish study where he sat at his grand ebony desk. Before him there was an array of priceless items he had acquired through his life, though today he paid these little heed. He turned his eyes to the series of reports he had received over the prior few days. These were from Victor, Director Rowe and countless other division heads and his agents that were scattered throughout both his company and the rest of the world. He knew that knowledge was the key to success and so he always endeavoured to know what was happening anywhere important – and these days important things were happening everywhere.

He was pleased with much of what he saw. Altogether the profits of the Gencultura Technologies Group were rising swiftly, as were those of many other major corporations. Currently he felt at ease with the state of the world and his holdings within. His son was occupied with his projects in Africa which would go on to further Gencultura massively, an investment that would pay off heavily in the future once control was established. Director Rowe was handling things magnificently, both in Rome and the company itself – the citizens were happy and content, diligent in their work and in their commitment to the company.

He would need to closely watch the situations in Scandinavia and ensure stability was maintained, as well as he would need to monitor the ambitions of Titan and the EDA to ensure there was no major conflicts closer to home and that progress was not interrupted.

He spent several hours sending out instructions and reviewing documents as the sun made its way across the sky through the large window that dominated one wall of the room. His head began to feel a little fuzzy and the familiar ache once more began to slowly sink into his joints as he worked. He glanced at his swizz watch and saw the time before he finished his final message and stretched out. He often forgot he was almost one-hundred years old, the numerous implants and treatments that he endured to keep himself feeling youthful. He stood and made his way through the many rooms and corridors until he reached his personal ‘spa’. To greet him was as always was Tanya, the woman responsible for his health and continued longevity. Of course she was also one of his lovers, Charles knowing that love was one of the few ways to ensure real loyalty and devotion. She was a brilliant woman, once a scientist within Bioheal he had snatched her up years ago. She herself was eighty-three, though didn’t look older than her mid-twenties with her flawless figure, skin and enchanting smile. He greeted her with an embrace and passionate kiss before they quickly got to work. His daily maintenance routine consisted of several injections and creams, as well other more extreme monthly and yearly procedures. Several of his organs were augmented by technology reverse engineered from EDAC products, some shared willingly others obtained through careful corporate espionage – Mr Lawson had spared no expense when it came to his continued survival.

Once he had finished he made his way towards his lavish dining hall, where his personal chief had prepared him an extravagant meal for one, the food all produced and engineered specifically to be superior in every way. He dined alone today, occupied within his own thoughts he desired little company. Of course usually he dined with a beautiful woman or some important business connection, however he had decided tonight he would take for himself. Once he had eaten he made his way down to his library and gallery an began to spend an evening of indulgence of culture and arts, before finally making his way back to Tanya’s quarters where he invited her back to his private sanctum, the remainder of the day spent within each other’s embrace.

[Legion02]

Another morning, another briefing. Bjronson was prepared as ever. In fact, he came in early once again. Still, his army of aids were ready for him at the door.
“Gaoyu has started putting capital in the European stock market. So far no important majority votes have been bought but the hedge fund managers under the Bank are getting antsy. They want assurance that their capital won’t get overshadowed.” But soon another aid intervened. “Gaoyu keeps up sending volunteers and other aid. Together with military power it claims to protect their volunteers. So far the help Italy gained has been quite substantial. In both goods and finance. SEER cautiously advice buying into Italy’s bonds.”

The Gaoyu team then split off the main group and went towards their offices. While the others remained near. “Miss Neosca gave a rather touching speech in Italy. Well, touching by EDA standards. It seems like the general populace will still rally behind her. Despite clear security issues.” An officer from Einherjar came up to the other side of Bjornson. “We succeeded in getting a meeting with Miss Neosca. But failed to give her a rundown of the specifics to be discussed. The EDA guards are keeping a suspicious tight grip around their representative. I wouldn’t be too surprised Mr. Valois is watching from the shadows.”

The group was now half-way towards the elevator when surprisingly enough the GAZPROM team came walking beside Bjornson: “We got some reports about alleged terrorist activity around the Danube and the Ukrainian -Moldavian border. Reports so far remain unverified. Mostly because we got a light grip on events in the Balkan at best. Even SEER can provide accurate projections. However, with the limited information sources available SEER preliminary projections suggests a refugee flow from Romania and maybe Ukraine. Poland is the nearest area owned by a Megacorporation. Then there is also the problem of potential Romanian terrorism. But again, GAZPROM’s media is the only source of this information.”

Now it was time for the largest army, Jötunn’s monitoring group. “If not a sense of humor, the Germans certainly seem to have a sense for insults.” Said one aid as he handed Bjornson a tablet showcasing a certain propaganda show from Munich. For a second Haldjor chuckled. “Munich and Nuremberg are quite emboldened by your support. They have been raising militia groups and inviting various other free German cities in a form of alliance against Jötunn. Which would be required, as it appears that Jötunn is moving armed personnel towards the borders.”

Times were getting increasingly interesting. Especially now. The top executive level had gone through a certain restyling. The Mega-corporation advisory boards each had an office on the floor now. Near Haldjor’s office a meeting room turned into a Central Command. When Bjornson entered, the room didn’t stop. But certain people looked up as he took his seat. Charles was among them, keeping a watchful eye over some monitors against the wall. There was a stark contrast between the young CEO and the veteran leader of Einherjar. “What’s the situation with Jötunn and Operation Mimir?”

“Everything proceeding as planned.” Answered Charles, not looking away from his screens. “Bastion’s first and second shipment is on its way. Mimir has ‘vanished’ from Norway 2 days prior. All seems to go according to plan.” Said the elderly man who still held a very strong aura of strength around him.

“I hope you’re right about him, Charles. Because if this goes wrong, the best case scenario is that we have a notorious terrorist with Top Tier equipment in our borders and the worst case is that Jötunn finds out and the markets are not in the mood for wargames so close at home. ISIL might blow a few market squares in the Middle East and the Balkans may descend into a bit of skirmishing. But I can’t have another Euro-War on my hands.” There was a certain tension within the Command Center. Even though neither of the participants looked at each other, there was a certain charge in the air. The room, despite being big, was still too small for these two giants. “Now, I see that there may be some issues in Romania?”

“Unverified reports from GAZPROM. True or not, they’re mobilizing. It all depends if the international media jumps on early enough. But GAZPROM is a lumbering giant. It’s getting too big. Even worse, they are aggressive above all else. They’ve proven it time and time again when they threw out the banks and-“

“A move that made us a lot of money.” Noted Bjornson.

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. We shouldn’t assume GAZPROM gave us a gift the day they started throwing out their financial institutions.” Said Charles as he turned around and marched towards the map projected on the main table. He looked over it, at the Danube. “What does GAZPROM want with that river…” the old man mused, trying to see the game of chess being played with 3 players. The EDA, GAZPROM and Jötunn.

Bjornson rose from his chair and looked out of the window. “Can Poland handle the refugees?” he asked, more in an off-hand interested voice than legitimate concern. Haldjor had no interest in humanitarian aid. Such things were best left to Gencultura. Who had long stand experience on the subject. This however, gave him an idea. “What if we asked our North-African brothers for help?”

“Gencultura? Hmmm, a fair proposal. Their humanitarian resume is a lot bigger than ours. We’d have to give something in return. Those guys down south may be sentimental from time to time, but they certaintly aren’t cheap. We’ll have to give them something.”

Haldjor nodded, agreeing with Charles. “For now, just monitor the refugee situation in Poland. Give the Gencultura taskforce orders to dig in. I want to have something they want if the Balkans situation turns into a crisis.”

“There is still Jötunn to worry about.” Noted Charles to Haldjor who moved to the other side of the table. With a doubtful gaze he looked at the divided Germany. “East and West. History repeats itself. Only this time the west is screwed. I cannot blatantly go up against the Giants. Another Euro-war would cost us billions if not more. So we need an alternative.”

“The rising German Federation seems to be doing rather well on its own for now.” Said Charles. Who, with a single movement, enlarged the map of Germany. It showed a clear red line to separate East and West. “At this rate, I doubt Germany would become part of Jötunn soon. At least not in any peaceful way. Sadly, Jötunn has never been known as peaceful. I do, however, have a continuity plan I’d like to suggest.” The old man looked at Haldjor without continuing. It was a silent sign. Whatever was going to be said now was the very least illegal, often highly immoral and at worst, it could destroy relationships between Mega-corporations for years. Haldjor nodded. “Germany will fall. We’re just buying it more time. I will not deny Germany’s fighting spirit though. They are though and stubborn. But Jötunn carries too much police and military weight. Right now SEER is trying to figure out why Jötunn wanted Germany so bad and I feel it will give us that answer soon. When we have it, we move that resource out of the free Federation.”

“Scortched earth tactic.” Noted Haldjor.

Charles nodded. “Rather, still-burning-earth. If we play our cards well and Jotünn still grabs East-Germany, we can have trained resistance fighters tucked away in every nook and cranny there is. We make it our Trojan Horse. Once Germany gets annexed the sleeper cells can spread themselves through Jötunn territory.”

“A daring plan… I will think it over. At least the Trojan Horse part. I will await SEER’s report on West-Germany’s value. Once we pinpointed what Jötunn wants, we drain West-Germany of that. You have my blessing for that plan. Now, for the next issue.” With a few taps the holo-map moved towards Italy. “The bomb, the EU and the EDA. It seems Miss Neosca is somewhat cooperative. But not enough. I don’t know if it’s indecisiveness, stubbornness or cheer incompetence but so far we only got paperwork from her.” One of Haldjor’s famous secretaries moved closer, knowing she’d at least would have to relay a message to her colleague. “Luckily the EDA is still quite an open economy. Start buying stocks in French and Italian companies. Keep them afloat. Show some economic goodwill. In that we have always been better than Jötunn. Central Europeans may desire more security but what they truly love is economic stability. Help the EDA in that.” The secretary nodded and excused herself.

“Then there is still the issue with Goayu buying European stocks. Our financial experts don’t see an immediate pattern in it. It’s neither aggressive nor hugely influential.” Said another secretary. “I’d personally say they are slowly but surely trying to get into the EU’s economy as times become more interesting.”

Haldjor nodded in understanding. He couldn’t show that it went unnoticed. Nor could he risk antagonizing another mega-corp. “Buy stocks of the companies they bought. Slowly, steadily. Try to use the same randomization they’ve used. Don’t buy too much influence. Just enough so we can get the board’s attention when required but try not to poke the panda bear.”