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The Valkyrie


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[b]Journal Entry: April 7, 2010
[/b]Dear Journal,

I've been here for a few months now, and I'm very confused. I've read the books both the King and his father, Vince Sixx wrote, and have been a lover of Distopyanism ever since. But, this is confusing. I think this is a Distopyan nation, because it's run by the Protector of Distopyanism. How can a distopyan nation be run by a King? How can a Distopyan become a King? I miss the days of Erik Betrakte. I used to idolize him. I saw him once during his world tour. I wish I could have met him. Vincent says I remind him of Erik, and that I look a lot like him. Maybe we are related, I don't know.

Still, the way Vincent asks makes me wonder, is he truly Distopyan? He acts like a rockstar, much like his dad did, but he puts himself above the people and everyone else.

Much Love, Chris.


Chris, the most handsome man on earth ((OOC: I have a huge ego, sue me :P)), closed his journal and laid back in his bed. He lived in a lavish room, while none of the Distopyans lived like this. Above, the green flag of Distopya hung above his bed, giving him inspiration. He rolled over and looked at his guitar for a second, before picking it up and strumming a few chords. He sang a little bit, and wrote down some lyrics.

[i]Arise, arise my people and fight
Our voices will not fade into the night
Distopya will always prevail
And our voices will pierce the light[/i]

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The leaders of Crimea sat at a dinner table in the Königshof one evening. On the table was turkey and some assorted side dishes. Dinner was silent for the most part. The King looked at Chris a few times and continued eating. Chris shrugged and thought nothing of it. After dinner was finished, the first words of the night had been spoken.

"Chris," Vincent said, "I'd like to have a word with you after dessert, alone."

"Sure thing Vince."

"Excuse me?"

"Vince, your name."

"Address me as sir, or my king, please."

Chris turned his head slightly, but then got to work on the slice of pie for dessert. He was slightly nervous, wondering what he could possibly want, but, it shouldn't be too bad.


Later that evening...

"So, Chris," Vincent began, sitting at a large green leather chair, "you don't know, but now you will. We have people search your houses and rooms. Everyone has this done, so don't feel special."


"You heard me."

"You have your inner circle's rooms searched."

"Well, actually, every single person in this government has a close eye on them, it's in an Internal Affairs office directed by Vincente Sicetti himself."

"Alright, so what do you want?" Chris asked, sitting back in his chair, trying to hide the look of disappointment.

"I want to know the meaning of the things in your room. You have many flags in your room, but no Crimean flags, why is this?"

"Because I look at them every day, I want something else to look at."

"Well, the specificity of the main Distopyan flag, the Green, Black, White, and Red one is the thing that disturbs me the most."

"Why is that?"

"It corresponds with your thoughts about me and this administration."

"And do you have mind searchers, too?"

"No, but I have this," Vincent said. He reached into a drawer on his desk and pulled out a green notebook. The same notebook that Chris wrote his thoughts into was now in Vincent's hands.

"So, you know my thoughts. What now?"

"I want to know why you think I'm a bad leader. I'm a nice guy," he said, still with a look of content on his face.

"You want to know the whole truth, Vince?"

"I'm sure I do," he replied, smiling.

Chris turned to the corner of the room and turned off the surveillance camera. "No, you don't. I think you're a narcissistic, egotistical...uh...megalomaniac with a thirst for power that can't be quenched by...well...what you have and what you will have."

"So you're saying I'm a dictator?"

"No...well...yes...but...well yeah."

"I'm a Distopyan, I can't be a dictator."

"Alright, look out there, to your city, what do you see?"

"I see a beautiful skyline, the gleaming representation of the future and commerce."

"See, there you are. Always looking up, and never back down to see that you're stepping on the people below you. Do you know we have one of the lowest standards of living in the world? Most of our food is imported, why? Because most of our fields are growing pot. We've got so much we're exporting it. Well you know what? It's illegal in most parts of the world. So guess what, people are eating it! That's why the people of Normandy are rioting against you. That's why people vote you out. It's because of your wild ideas! Do you know that most of these buildings are empty? People have moved on."

"It's not my fault these people can't adjust to a Disto-" Vince was cut off mid-sentence.

"You call this a Distopyan government??! With your crowning over in France, your balls, your parties, your lavish everything, you forget everyone here. When my people were crying for revolution, what did you do? You said that if I did anything to help them, you would order me executed," Chris got angrier by every word he said, eventually getting up to yelling.

"Only because of your position of power would call for a wa-," Vince stood and leaned on his desk, getting in Chris's face.

"You think I would force those troops to help me in my cause? The most I would take was weapons. Just a pistol and a rifle to help me."

"Yes, and you are a soldier of the Di-"

"Stop calling this a Distopyan state. You are a King. This is a Kingdom. This is not Distopya. Your father would spit on this government," Chris was now yelling at him.

Vince called suit, it was now a screaming match. "Excuse me?"

"You have a high guard, you have an execution squad, you picked me up in a black van. Your dad would have visited me himself."

"That's unsafe."

"With the way your government is, yes, yes it is."

"So what do you suppose we do about this then, Chris?" Vince calmed down a little and sat back down.

Chris sat back down. "There is nothing we can do."

"I know what you want to do, Chris. You want to overthrow me. Your little poem says so. Because of your attitudes, I'm afraid of what other government officials have been corrupted by your words. Well, you have given me an excuse to change this government."


"General Bogart, you are fired." Vince pressed a button on his desk. "Guards, escort Chris outside of the Königshof." The guards entered the room and left with Chris in tow. Vincent then pressed another button on his desk. "Vincente, it's time for Operation Rоzоvyj Stenya."


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