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Conspiracy Theory


Markus Wilding
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It was a beautiful day in Sarnunga, full of people bustling about. On the streets, merchants sold their wares, taxi drivers tried to make a buck, people pushed and shoved to get to their destinations. In the various high-rises dotting the city, businessmen conducted and closed deals, telemarketers annoyed, call centers rang with dozens of phones.

And through this all, the Overwatch Officers saw to it that no law was broken, no ordinance broken, no procedure missed. Those that found themselves guilty wound up in a prison, more serious offenses a federal labor camp. Nobody paid much attention to the Overwatch Officers, after all, nobody but they themselves knew of their existence. Yet somehow, a group of men did know. Their goal was to stop the Overwatch Officers from gaining too much power over the populace and state.

They met secretly, in underground locations built when Nigeria was in anarchy. This group hoped that their ideals would succeed, but they had been met with fierce opposition in face of the newly-appointed King. Fascistic ideas had no place in Africa, it seems. One man, a shemagh covering his face, lashed out. "We must strike fast, before the Overwatch gain too much power!" These men had a map of Sarnunga laid out in front of them, every detail captured on the paper. The apparent leader spoke slowly. "Striking before all is in place will negate everything we have worked for. We need to wait." The small Soviet-style television blared in the corner, a local newscrew reporting on latest military hardware being built in the Kingdom.

"...military officials have stated that this base," she indicated the structure behind her, still under construction. "will be the center of many new prototypes and field-testing." Before she could continue further, an Overwatch Officer stepped in to cover the screen. "I'm sorry, but you cannot be here. This is a restricted area." He turned to the camera operator, his brown robes shadowing his face. "Turn the camera off and give it to me, [i]now.[/i]" The cameraman protested, leading the Overwatch Officer to punch him in the stomach. "By the order of High King Sochima Sopuluchukwu, HAND OVER THE CAMERA!" Not wanting to be punched again, the cameraman turns it over. "I'll sue you for this...!" he weakly cries out before the broadcast is cut off. The shemagh-wearing man turned to his comrades. "So," he began, "still think we should wait?"

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Three of the men - the shemagh-wearer, the "leader" and a third for security, stepped out of their headquarters to walk the streets. "Walk with me, my brother." The three began to walk slowly as the third man kept an eye out. They didn't know, however, that an Overwatch Officer was already tracking their movements. He checked to make sure his poison blade had enough poison needed to kill, and blended with the crowd. The security man didn't notice his presence, and the two others spoke in hushed tones. "Brother, you must learn that action is not always the best course. Sometimes, staying quiet can yield the best results." The shemagh-wearer pretended to look over a piece of artwork as he replied. "Staying quiet as the enemy gains power didn't work for Chamberlain, and it won't work for us. Brother, I know you want to eliminate this false King - I do too. But to do it, we need to strike before [i]they[/i] gain too much power." At this point, the Overwatch Officer elected not to kill either of the two whisperers. He did, however, elect to eliminate the security, discreetly stabbing his spine with the poison-seeped blade. He pardoned himself and quickly walked away. The poison would work it's magic in a few minutes, causing instant death. The two men looked at each other and quickly made their way back to the headquarters.

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