The Outliers

[iamthey]

The day had proceeded as one might have expected it to. He had received a notification that afternoon from an overseas bank alerting him of the recent deposit made by Sophia Morgan. A marginal sum of 250,000 credits but every little bit counted, he thought. He had told Marc about the studies he intended to undertake, but failing to comprehend the look of incredulity and the doubtful sentiment, he had disregarded the encounter. Beyond this on the periphery of his mind was the matter of Andrew Mier. He was unsure what he felt about the outcome; he had expected pride, perhaps even a sense of civic duty- but it didn't come this time, the emptiness and... boredom of his existence persisted. He wasn't sure when he had realized it, perhaps it was the day after his first kill, or maybe it was a week ago, but now he was sure: he had to find something else. Silently he sat at the rear of his limousine mindlessly manipulating and moving the recent deposit by the Morgans though a series of shell corporations, sales, and investment funds. There was never a ways to completely disconnect the payment from himself, but he could make the trail convoluted, and confusing; virtually connecting it to hundreds if not thousands of others, some with even more questionable reputations and some who are especially unlucky possessing no alibi for the morning of the murder. When he was satisfied he pulled up his own portfolio allowing the fairly significant figure to run the length of the transparent touch pad, ¥10,938,471,214.80. It paled next to the astronomical wealth held in trust by his grandfather, the Magistrate, but none the less this was wealth he himself had pooled out and created on his own, not something he had been given. Then a burst of thought, perhaps he'd return to finance... a short term solution, a vapor cloud of escape, the response and associated metaphor that his mind delivered. He wasn't sure. At that he closed the portfolio, and pulled up his contact list. Scanning it he found the name was looking for and selected 'call'. It took only a moment for the voice on the other end to answer. Michael made no attempts to introduce himself. "A year ago you offered me a position at your firm...No I have not reconsidered, but I do have another proposition in mind...Yes, an investment group, small, selective, large accounts, large reputations, high returns...Yes a hedge fund...International...No oversight, unregistered, limited liability, and publicly unconnected to myself...I do not care how you set it up, all I am saying is, you find me the clients, you give me a line of credit, you give me a work space and staff, and I will get the job done." Allowing the line to go dead, Atrevier relaxed back into his seat allowing the now inactive polymer pane to rest on the cushion beside him. The idea was not fully conceived, but even at this point he could see the rough outlines of what he would do. It would be unstoppable, and it would be too late before anyone could unravel it.

[iamthey]

[b]*A gathering of friends at a Wellington café*[/b]

“A constitution is a distraction, a sort of mask for abstractions. It provides us with an image of how things legally should exist in theory, but it does little beyond that. The pragmatic reality of our world is that at the end of the day, power can only be answered with power, and if any one group or cartel holds the monopoly then it is answerable to no one, certainly not a piece of paper.” Michael paused, grasping a moment to collect his thoughts and draw a rich cloud of the scented tobacco and herbal smoke from a wooden pipe he often lit on such occasions. He was careful not to inhale the thick unfiltered smoke, but he enjoyed the flavor nonetheless. In that instant his eyes swept the group of empty faces before him, a small collection of his friends. He regarded them as empty vessels and his penetrating gaze confirmed this assumption.

“Despite all the trappings of nobility, the prerogative of the regal office, the rights of parliament, and their volumes of law, the power of the state, does not rest alone with such bodies, nor does it exist in the form or exact limitation which is established in the collection of documents that we call our constitution. Mr. Devereaux, is at his core a man of administration, he governs like a bureaucrat, and do not misunderstand, at this he is exceptional, but sometimes he overlooks the subtleties of the reality of the state and the political economy. The modern nation is governed by a sort of power elite, while we may have formal spheres of authority, the nobles, the executive, the parliament, such a model fails to provide the explanatory power necessary to unwind the modern power structure. Wherever you go there is always some sort of economic system, a political directorate to provide a decision making apparatus for formal state action, and a military to enforce the will of the political directorate, and to provide for the underlying faith that all economic systems and associated constructs are based upon. These three spheres and their leading figures are what I refer to when I say ‘the power elite’.” He drew once more from the pipe, exhaling and allowing the fingers of smoke to extend their reach across the table.

“I know what you are thinking, ‘surely one sphere must hold sway over another’, but this is not the case. The Marxist would posit that the economic sphere will always dominate the others. However, the interests of the economic man are always insecure without at least a measure of stability created out of standardized and strong central political power, and of course what would such men do without the military when the masses themselves cease to be contained. The Conservative would look with a certain air of pride at the high walls of the established political order, assured in his faith that this sphere indeed held sway over the others. Such a man would be confident that the great and often illusory legions of the national charter will surely uphold such supremacy. This also is a mistaken position, for of what value is power that lacks the innovative production of the Economy, or the enforcing stability of the Military. In the same way that the economic man depends on the sanction of the Political, so too does the political man depend upon the economic for the means of his own personal political ends. At last the chauvinistic and often blind Fascist, though progressive is misplaced in his view of the military as the dynamic force of social change and its status as the superior sphere. The military though it epitomizes the nature of struggle, is itself the most reactionary institution one could conceive of. Its purpose is not to change but merely to hold things as they are. Without the promethean nature of the economic sphere, or the life force represented in the population from which it seizes its sustenance, the institution itself would collapse under the immense expense of operation it bears. Each alone is an impotent collection of specialists, some immensely technical such as the engineers, the analysts, the soldiers, the judges and the marketers too narrow in their focus to be independent, others utterly general, the members of parliament, the business administrators, the managers, and so on too unskilled to pick up the slack of their experts. Together they are an immense, efficient machine geared towards one underlying goal, the perpetuation of the system itself and the expansion of its scope.” He took one last puff before resting the pipe on the small coffee table before him.

“Each relies upon the others, and each is interconnected at so many points of interest that it would be impossible for even the best social engineer to map. But this does not answer the underlying question, which is picking at each of your minds: ‘who then is in control?’ If it is not the captains of industry, nor the members of the royal council, or even the high generals of the Royal Pacifican Army, and if it is insufficient and unhelpful to say that no one is in control, that it is simply a plural and diffused sovereignty. Then, the best I can do is lift the curtain on perhaps the last place you would look. The center of our world, the center of all power is not at the center of any one sphere. It is not some naïve conservative notion of ‘the people’, and it is not ‘no one’. The reality of our system, the fact that neither of these is the case, that all are by their very nature dependent upon one another implies an obvious truth. If the kings rely upon the merchants and the warriors, and so on, then the true seat of power is not the throne, nor the banker office, nor the battle field but the man who stands between them. It is the individuals who exist in multiple spheres, who connect the producers with the powerful, the powerful with the military and all connections in between that form the spokes and hub of the wheel that is the modern nation state. These liaisons in the matter of category are intangible, they are the bankers who become advisors to emperors, the generals who enter politics, the contractors who unite the military and economic interests; they move in and out of all realms at all times. These gentlemen, are our long invisible and omnipotent masters of the universe, there is no constitution which defines or limits them. There is no recognition on the part of society. There is no respect for the considerable power they wield. The paper that sits in the Parliamentary Research Library, the thing they say defines power in Greater Pacifica, that is the mask such men hide behind, that is their protection against the power of others, and it is those documents that perhaps may empower them the most.”

[b]*The Queendom of Australia*[/b]

Uncertainty was the preeminent disposition of Martin Devier. Devier was a character of a particular set of principles, those of the advisor. As his father before him, he had made a career of serving the established order. While competent, the particular brand of confidence this line of occupation produces is the sort premised upon acting knowing one’s decisions come with the consent and orders of another. This is the certainty provided by faith in the conscience of a superior. Despite this engrained discipline, the mandate of the law, and the judgment of his superiors had never been at conflict. Previously an agent of a law abiding and particularly respected investment bank, he was now acting subversive under orders of the same entity. He was not certain of who the man behind his orders were, as he was certain such a project could not have originated within the mind of his superiors, nonetheless the charge was the same: to raise capital.

As he had climbed in his career he had come to understand a simple reality, the higher one aspired the more ambiguous the divide between personal mandate, favor, opinion and codified legal text became. In the same regard the higher one seemed the climb the less evaluation was based upon personal competence and more upon the personal judgment of the cliques themselves. Twenty years ago it had been all about playing by the rules, and doing your best, now it was who you knew and what you could get away with. Means no longer were of concern, only results.

Considering what he had asked for and what he had received Martin was at an entire loss. Part of the conditions of the fund he was raising capital for, was a certain degree of discretion. His executive handler hadn’t given him the name of the fund manager, nor had he given him any details of his identity beyond his expertise, and a few vague examples of his performance. Regardless no investor to this point had turned him down. He had combed Pacifican Society, and received sizable deposits from many of the most significant figures. Having skimmed off what he could from the Pacifican markets he and his team were then tasked to sift through the global markets. The Queendom and Wales due to their proximity were scheduled first.

Checking into a hotel his first order of business had been to send out private letters advertising the fund to Australia’s wealthy. He had dispatched his staff to visit those of the greatest consequence . He wasn’t sure how effective it would be, but he knew the immediate campaign would spread virally from there.

Edited April 30, 2010 by iamthey

[Sarah Tintagyl]

OOC: Iat...very interesting read...my suggestion though, paragraphs is much more welcoming and pleasing to a reader's eyes. After quotes and all that, it would make the beginning part so much easier to read.

[iamthey]

[quote name='Sarah Tintagyl' date='30 April 2010 - 09:36 PM' timestamp='1272659792' post='2281573']
OOC: Iat...very interesting read...my suggestion though, paragraphs is much more welcoming and pleasing to a reader's eyes. After quotes and all that, it would make the beginning part so much easier to read.
[/quote]


OOC: True, I divided it up. At first I didn't think there was a natural way to make it paragraphed, but the periodic pauses make for effective divisions.

[Sarah Tintagyl]

OOC: Yeah...that looks so much more welcoming to the eyes. Merci Beaucoup.

[Subtleknifewielder]

[quote name='iamthey' date='30 April 2010 - 01:28 PM' timestamp='1272659321' post='2281563']
[b]*The Queendom of Australia*[/b]

Uncertainty was the preeminent disposition of Martin Devier. Devier was a character of a particular set of principles, those of the advisor. As his father before him, he had made a career of serving the established order. While competent, the particular brand of confidence this line of occupation produces is the sort premised upon acting knowing one’s decisions come with the consent and orders of another. This is the certainty provided by faith in the conscience of a superior. Despite this engrained discipline, the mandate of the law, and the judgment of his superiors had never been at conflict. Previously an agent of a law abiding and particularly respected investment bank, he was now acting subversive under orders of the same entity. He was not certain of who the man behind his orders were, as he was certain such a project could not have originated within the mind of his superiors, nonetheless the charge was the same: to raise capital.

As he had climbed in his career he had come to understand a simple reality, the higher one aspired the more ambiguous the divide between personal mandate, favor, opinion and codified legal text became. In the same regard the higher one seemed the climb the less evaluation was based upon personal competence and more upon the personal judgment of the cliques themselves. Twenty years ago it had been all about playing by the rules, and doing your best, now it was who you knew and what you could get away with. Means no longer were of concern, only results.

Considering what he had asked for and what he had received Martin was at an entire loss. Part of the conditions of the fund he was raising capital for, was a certain degree of discretion. His executive handler hadn’t given him the name of the fund manager, nor had he given him any details of his identity beyond his expertise, and a few vague examples of his performance. Regardless no investor to this point had turned him down. He had combed Pacifican Society, and received sizable deposits from many of the most significant figures. Having skimmed off what he could from the Pacifican markets he and his team were then tasked to sift through the global markets. The Queendom and Wales due to their proximity were scheduled first.

Checking into a hotel his first order of business had been to send out private letters advertising the fund to Australia’s wealthy. He had dispatched his staff to visit those of the greatest consequence . He wasn’t sure how effective it would be, but he knew the immediate campaign would spread virally from there.
[/quote]
It wasn't hard to note the comings and goings of the wealthy. Such were always under scrutiny, whether from the Government, Law enforcement, the common folk...or those who lived under the radar, in the underworld inhabited by what most called criminals.

And when multiple such individuals appeared to be contacted by a single individual...now that was noteworthy by any standard. Especially if several of them apparently returned the contact, expressing interest in whatever the interloper had to offer. Indeed, several wealthy businessmen and women from around the nation had each, in turn, offered to contribute to this fund to varying degrees--no less than three had contributed upwards of more than 2 million Australian Dollars, with half a dozen more contributing anything from five hundred thousand to 1.5 million each.

The government saw, but cared little, as while it was shady, there was no blatant indication of anythin [i]illegal[/i]. However, other eyes took the information in, and curious, the owner of these eyes decided to investigate personally.

Artemis often involved himself personally in the escapades of his organization. It not only meant he didn't have to depend on underlings to do all the work, meaning less he had to pay later...it helped ensure loyalty to see their boss along, risking his neck as much as theirs.

Which was why, when Martin Devier came back to his hotel room, presumably from the dining area or from some other personal business unrelated to his work here, the lights were out. He would hear a single clap, signalling the lights to brighten, to reveal a slight figure sitting on a chair near the bedroom door. Almost casually, a briefcase was set in the space between the bottom of the chair and the floor, but the eyes of the intruder would probably be what first attracted the man's attention. Young, but cold, calculating, yet at the same time, indicating a curious level of interest.

Edited May 1, 2010 by Subtleknifewielder

[iamthey]

Devier had been relatively impressed by the response he had received. While the Australian markets were not as quick to jump aboard as their Pacifican counterparts, the fund had picked up ten to twenty million in Australian capital. Probably a more realistic indication of how he would fair in the rest of his target markets. He had always considered it somewhat unbelievable the size and scope of investment he had found in the Wellington-Nelson axis alone. Regency Transnational, the name of the fund, had captured almost immediate signatures from several of the significant noble families, the Morgans, the Holborns, the Verns, his own father Lucien Devier, even the personal financial manager to the royal family and the Devereaux’s had staked billion’s of both fortunes. The list of investors read like a social register of the nation’s political and social elite, especially those with close ties and allegiances with the royal family, and the Devereaux administration. Most unnerving he had tracked many of the smaller deposits to larger pools controlled by members of the nation’s relatively small but effective ruling party, the Pacifican Nationalist Party. Nonetheless the response was reassuring, he had marked the Queendom as a potential host market for one of the regional feeder funds he’d set up for Regency.

Returning from a dinner with his staff, he had arrived at the spacious high class hotel late in the evening. Crossing the lavishly designed lobby, he boarded the elevator, riding it to the penthouse suite serving as his center of operations. Entering the darkened room he felt the nagging sense of the amiss. He had left the light on when he had left. From somewhere behind him as if as an answer to his unexpressed question, he heard the distinct clap of another, flooding the room with light. Whirling around he found himself staring into a set of piercing gray eyes. Quickly making the connection between the seated, and wiry sophistication of the other, and the open brief case between them he internationally made an assumption. “Can I help you?” He asked, the words more a reaction than an initiative. The looming silence of the instant hung over the two of them, meaning two separate things for each, for one it was uncertainty, for another control. It was this silence that demanded a response, an answer from the intruder and and an act on the part of this free agent.

Edited May 2, 2010 by iamthey

[Subtleknifewielder]

The young man stared calmly, with those grey orbs penetrating, staring into Devier's eyes as if by doing so, they could see into his very being, his soul, if you believed in that sort of thing. The faintest hint of a smile, though it contained no warmth and didn't go beyond his mouth, curved the edges of his lips upward--and that cold expression was all too visible due to the distinct lack of any facial hair.

He'd made an impression, and it had been exactly what he had hoped for, though the man seemed to recovwer fairly quickly from his surprise--even if the recovery was just an act, it still showed a commendable ability to adapt to a situation that could very easily be unfavorable to his well-being.

So as he spoke, he made an effort to inject a little warmth into his voice, in the form of a good humor. "Help me? Perhaps. Though if what I've heard is right, I'm more in a position to help you. It's not difficult to track what you are doing. You are obviously seeking investors, though no one seems quite exactly sure what you are up to."

The government saw the signs, but thought little of them. Why should they? There was nothing illegal so far as they could tell. And the war with Tahoe was a distraction to just about everyone, for good or ill. However... "I have sources some others do not. And yet I cannot determine what you are up to. Considering the nature of the dealings, should I view you as an interloper on my domain?" His eyes narrowed at the thought, his voice as chilly as his expression for a moment, "Or are you, in fact, an avenue to a potentially mutually profitable business partnership?" Crossing his legs, his voice lost the brittle edge, and this time, when his mouth turned upward, the smile was a touch more genuine. Nevertheless, Artemis knew that whoever Devier was, it was unlikely that he was the ultimate mastermind of this operation.

Thus unusual wording...that the man was not a potential usiness partner...but that he was an avenue to one.

Edited May 2, 2010 by Subtleknifewielder

[iamthey]

Inwardly Devier smiled to himself. He had not expected investors to approach him on their own, but he would certainly take advantage of the opportunity. For a moment he studied the other's face. There seemed to be a certain competence to it, a confidence instilled by nature of excelling in a particular field. He had seen the face before, it was identical in form to that of the Crown Prince, and though he didn't know either man, he understood them nonetheless. In response he slowly crossed the room and took the seat opposite of the prospective client. "What I have to offer would be to your benefit, and by virtue of that to the benefit of those I represent as well. I represent a nascent hedge fund that will soon be announced as Regency Transnational. As an investment group its manager intends to aggressively invest, to the mutual profit of himself and those in the pool. I won't waste your time with a vacuous pitch as I am sure you have a greater appreciation for facts than rhetoric. The nature of your visit tells me that much."

"With the greatest simplicity there are four core advantages to investing with the group.

First and foremost is a level of unprecedented discretion. All deposited will be held in absolute confidence, the same can be said about transactions between you the client, and the fund itself. We intend to operate globally in many different markets ensuring there is no one jurisdiction with authority over assets held by the firm, also ensuring that no one jurisdiction has full view of the fund's activities. I have also been assured that our host nation, Greater Pacifica, intends to extend a degree of preferential treatment in the sense that they will prevent internal disclosures of confidential client information. I will also add that the fund is unregistered with the financial regulators, so there are very little limitations on what can and can't be done. If you are interested in securing your own wealth, we don't really care what your reason for doing so is, then this fund would certainly be an unparalleled opportunity.

Second, the fund has been thoroughly endorsed by many significant and well connected individuals and groups. In Pacifica it raised nearly 220 Billion Credits, a relatively obscene figure I know, but none the less remarkable. Among the major participants are the Morgans, and Holborns contributing each 5 Billion, the Royal Family has staked 10 Billion in the pool, and the most wealthy gentleman of Pacifica, Thomas Devereaux has entrusted 100 Billion Credits of his own wealth to the fund. If it is any consolation the fund manager himself has placed his own money on his aptitude contributing roughly 11 Billion to the project.

Third the fund manager himself is highly qualified and experienced as a financial analyst, a real prodigy from what I've been told. Two years ago, you might remember, there was a massive shorting of several major currencies. The move itself netted him and his investors nearly 5 billion credits overall. Another example would be a series of well picked CDS's he bought up at the beginning of last year's Depression. While the rest of the country starved, he collected nearly 2.1 Billion on maturing swaps. That said its not all cut throat high risk maneuvering. This year he privately refinanced the debt of several major chartered corporations in Pacifica, buying up their bonds and streamlining the industries he returned them to profitability, and collected on the interest. All things considered as an investment manager he is versatile, and while everyone else is losing money or breaking even, hes making it.

Fourth the largest bank in Pacifica, Royal Bank of Pacifica, has extended a low interest and virtually unlimited line of credit to Regency providing it with the means to magnify its returns. I suppose its also another endorsement, if that means anything to you.

So, hearing that, I have other literature I could give to you about the fund, otherwise the opportunity is there for you. While the figures I cited earlier were a bit outrageous, there has been a wide range of contributions ranging from 1 million Credits, upwards to Mr. Devereaux's deposit I referenced earlier. That said I can answer any questions you may have."

Edited May 6, 2010 by iamthey

[Subtleknifewielder]

"Your assessment of me is correct. I appreciate facts, not pretty words and speeches. I am aware of the business situatiuon in Greater Pacifica,--I have to be especially aware of goings-on in and around my home country to ensure business dealinsgs turn out profitable for myself and those under my employ." The expression was still calculating, still full of complete and utter confidence, but any coldness in his gaze was no longer directed at Devier personally.

"You'll understand, of course, if I don't invest every penny I own. After all, I barely know you, and for all I know, this is just a major scam. However...I assume I have the opportunity to invest more later if I find everything to my satisfaction?" The briefcase he'd brought currently had six million Australian Dollars in it.

He made a mental note to look into the claims of just who all had invested later. If they held true, he just might up his contribution, though his instincts told him that this was very likely what it appeared to be--under the radar, but still a legitimate if quasi-legal enterprise. So right now he was feeling inclined to give it all to this visitor from Greater Pacifica. Still, there was no harm in obtaining more information.

"What literature do you have that could enlighten me further on this venture? And would I be required to give you my actual name for the purposes of investing?"

[iamthey]

"Literature, yes." He paused as he opened his own bag to remove one of the standardized primers he had put together on the fund. "A more detailed version of what I just explained. Some more figures, projections excetra. As for your name, and purposes. Beyond a way to contact you and notify you of the fund's activities, an email, a PO box, a company office, we don't really need the exact details of your identity. Like I said we deal with many individuals and groups who have explicitly placed money with us because of the discretion we offer, and of course any information you do give to us is kept in strict confidence. Your purposes are irrelevant to us, we just assume anyone investing is looking for an opportunity to grow their money, and shelter it from market problems or... legal authorities. The only condition of our business is that the money couldn't be withdrawn for at least one year without a penalty fee. Its an investment fund, not a bank account. Our incentive is that we collect a 10% performance fee on any investment returns. Its a simple, and discrete mutual relationship." He paused for a moment.

"As for if you could invest more in the future. Of course, the way we operate is through the sale of shares in the fund, each share selling at an initial value of 1,000,000 credits a share. As time progresses each share increases in value as the assets of the fund increase. So if you purchase a share at 1,000,000 and in the course of your ownership of that share the assets of the firm increases its assets by 50%, the value of your share will increase to 1,500,000 Credits. If at any time you desire to purchase new shares the fund would sell them to you. And you could of course redeem your shares by selling them back to us for a cash deposit in a bank of your choice. And, if you really wanted to be particular we would be willing to offer you assets in exchange for your shares; gold, physical currency, bearer bonds, other securities excetra."

Edited May 7, 2010 by iamthey

[Subtleknifewielder]

Artemis took the primer and skimmed through it, all the while continuing to listen to the sales pitch. Whatever else you called it, that was what it was. Albeit one designed to actually grab his attention, not the fancy speeches designed to snare more gullible investors.

Devier would be forgiven, of course, for thinking Artemis was ignoring him--when in reality Artemis was a multitasker...he had to be to stay ahead in his chosen field.

His response demonstrated he'd heard every word. "If i were anyone else, I might report some of what you said to the police...but I'm hardly one to talk to them," he stated dryly. "Besides, I like what I hear, especially the option to redeem shares with other assets."

"Very well," he said, standing and indicating the briefcase, picking it up to set it on the table between them and flipping it open."

Devier would find within it a sum of no less than 6 million Australian Dollars, and an anonymous P/O box in Adelaide where he could be contacted. Artemis stated as much.

"Consider me an investor then. Every last penny in here is now part of your fund."

[iamthey]

Devier nodded, standing and offering his hand to the other. "We'll convert the AUD's to Credits and send the equivalent in shares to the Box you've given us. Since we don't have any of your identity information we'll leave the shares unregistered and they will function much like bearer bonds do. If you hold the security then it will be yours to claim, or sue for in court. Understand though that if they are lost or stolen there won't be anything we can really do about it. It would be impossible for us to distinguish them from any of the other similar shares we issue. So be careful with them."

[Subtleknifewielder]

Artemis took the offered hand, giving it a firm shake. Devier would notice it was quite tight, almost crushing, tighter than it had a right to be judging from theapparent physical strength of the man before him.

"That is perfectly all right. Believe me, if anyone steals from me..." now his grin became truly predatory, very likely reminding Devier of a shark's expression, "they'll live just long enough to regret it." he finally released Devier's hand, nodding once. "I'm glad we could do business. Here's wishing you luck and prosperity in furthering the goals of yourself and your employer." Finally he released the man's hand, before he accidentally broke any bones. He would now wait to hear any last words Devier had to say...and then take his leave.

[iamthey]

"It was a pleasure doing business with you as well." Not sure what to make of the painful handshake, and the response. He showed the guest out of the room before making arrangement for the new deposit.

[iamthey]

*General Actions*

The 6,000,000 AUD were converted into Pacicifican Credits and two unregistered shares of the fund were directed by secure courier to the anonymous PO box provided.

*Devier*

Devier and his team soon rolled up their Australian operations and headed south to New South Wales. Upon arriving at its capital they proceeded to send out mass direct mail to its most wealthy citizens, as well as direct staff members to set up meetings and visits with those who responded positively and expressed interest.

[iamthey]

The look held by Atrevier was the smug face of certainty. Before him was the youthful soldier and friend Marc Stephens, a man reality had most recently proven wrong. When he had embarked on his own study of mathematics, finance, and sociology, Stephens had looked at him skeptically, uncertain of whether the confident prince would be capable of the load. He had competed his university studies not in five years, not in four, but two. He had graduated summa cum laude, and had accepted his diploma, and recognition in a private ceremony among a group of friends family and choice members of the faculty. He had no use for the grand public ceremony’s held to universally commemorate effort, which he considered cheap, mass produced, and impersonal. That was for the masses.

Prior to his completion of his undergraduate studies he had taken the standardized tests to qualify for graduate school, having done so well that along with his school record the faculty had pre-emptively offered him positions among the various relevant Ph.D programs available. He had accepted two of their offers, one among the Wellington academy’s Mathematics Department, and another among their Department of Social Science. He intended to do both simultaneously.

“How did you manage to attend so many classes at once?” Stephens’s question cut through his own mental process. Coming out of the daze of what sat before him Michael turned his gaze from the scenery beyond the limousine to the eyes of the other.

“Simple, I did not.” The Seraphim blinked, the look of confusion was clear. “Attendance was not mandatory. I would fit in as much as I could and double up overlapping courses. Generally I wouldd just teach myself what I was not already acquainted with and when something was beyond my ability then I would go to class. On days where there were multiple exams I would take one early.” Stephens frowned, and sighed.

“Life shouldn’t be so easy,” was his only response. Michael smirked, an expression denoting two emotions, certainty, and pride. Pride because he knew his own ability, and certainty because he knew that Stephens did not fully know the situation of his own life. Beyond the knowledge of anyone within this particular circle he had been working on the project of his own hedge fund. A project that had expanded far beyond his original intent. Not only did it include many of Pacifica’s most wealthy, but also those of Australia, Wales, Vietnam, China, Novak, and several other nations across the globe. The fund raising effort had grown the fund from his own original deposit of 11 Billion Credits to the mammoth total of nearly 250 Billion. Since then he had been doing everything he could to turn the fund certificates from the paper they initially were into an asset more valuable than gold. He had several projects in the works. Beyond the normal trading of the fund he had devised several lucrative mechanisms of capturing capital. The first had begun nearly two years ago when he had initiated within the pacifican market the securitization of distressed debt strategically structuring them with financial poison pills within each. They would initially pay out well before an eventual and predictable collapse within a given window of time. He had purchased and sold many of these through several vaguely connected corporations Regency Transnational owned full interest in. The fund would profit significantly from the revenue generated by the sale but also by the attached Credit Default Options he would activate when the window of collapse approached. A second though similarly minded project had begun a year ago with the passage of the Residence Ownership Act a decontrolling act designed to re-introduce personal ownership of homes and condos. Fueled by propaganda, low interest rates, and easy credit policies he had manipulated into place, Michael had created a new set of assets to be securitized, personal mortgages. Several corporations also invisibly connected to the fund led this effort and achieved a similar product which was highly profitable to sell but in many case designed with failure in mind. Again respective CDO’s were already held by Regency.

He was now on his way to another potential project. The Kergulen Development that had supposedly been in the works for really the last half century but had been set back due to a hostile local environment and installations, along with weak project leadership. He had asked and received from the Magistrate to be tasked there in an advisory role and as a representative of the crown, though his intent far exceeded this capacity. As the limousine pulled into the Wellington Airport he smiled knowing that this would be the true beginning of everything he was working for.

OOC: I hate doing meetings, so anyone who said they would be interested in having investors from I just included. (I can retcon out anyone if necessary).

Edited June 3, 2010 by iamthey

[iamthey]

Michael’s VTOL Cradle transport hovered slowly above the isolated city at Mc Donald’s Island. The city itself paled in comparison to the great Dominion port of entry, that had once stood there. The abyss below stretched nearly five kilometers down to the bottom of a deep crater sea and spanned nearly two kilometers in diameter. Along the edge of the sheer cliffs was a series of suspended platforms serving as the entrance to a network of caves that had survived the destruction of the city. Around the crater stood the sprawling Pacifican port city that had sprung up in the half century of their control. The city was aptly named by its residents the ‘Crater City’.

The Prince relocated the frosted margarita, balancing it on an area of the small coffee table he deemed more stable as it began to tip with their decent. Returning his attention to his touch tablet he continued to code his own modified protocols for the Seraphim procedure. He knew it wouldn’t make sense to undergo the standard procedure as it included a number of control measures that he would not tolerate. He also had a few additional innovations he had opted to experiment with. Rather than to be dominated by the synthetic and natural neural network of the Seraphim, he had altered the code structure inserting himself into the system as a hub, similar to their leader, Stephens, though in an even more advanced capacity. He would be given superior oversight priority to their central synthetic neural core, have full access to the system’s processing power, the Pacifician compendiums, and all Seraphim exo-cortices and their connected counterparts. He had also developed schematics for new uplink and hardware manipulation implants. He would have them install them along his left wrist. They would consist of a set of compact hardwiring probes created from carbon nano-tubes and manipulated by nanites which could disassemble and manipulate a computer’s physical structure as well as connect physically to it at particular points to allow control of its software, once connected by manipulating its structure it should be able to more efficiently transmit information optically. In total length the reach would be anywhere between 1-1.5 meters. Writing the command protocols, his thin fingers swept across the virtual keyboard rapidly pounding out the code as it flowed from his mind. From the moment he had conceived of the idea it had taken visual form within the eye of his genius, as by effortless force of will it had materialized into reality. As he continued his mind slipped from the moment to the future. He could imagine not simply the immediate work of today, but of the work to come, to restore the great island stronghold, to complete the work of his own fund, to ruin his rivals, and to organize his own eventual rule. He could imagine within his vision, that final moment, that apogee when he crossed from man to god, the moment of his apotheosis. The sun would be rising, the wind would be blowing through his sandy blond hair, he would be upon a podium before a great crowed, and it would be that great moment when he could feel satisfied, if only for a moment.

The bump that shook the craft as it touched down on one of the suspended landing platforms of the city, brought Atrevier back to the forefront of reality. Closing out the tablet applications he replaced it in his satchel before pulling the strap over his shoulder and standing to exit the rear of the refitted military transport. He crossed the open threshold leaving the temperate climate of the summer Kergulens for the dark and solemn cold of an air-conditioned subterranean complex. The floors were a dark marble and the lights above a steady but faint halogen. He first found himself in the openness of the grand lobby belonging to the regional administrative complex, the nerve center of Pacifican Operations at the islands. As he crossed the open floor he examined the faces of those around them, noting a distinct solemn air of defeat. They had seen for the last fifty years as those who sat above them in the grand administrative Council failed to accomplish what they were tasked to do. It had always been one argument or another, to restore the cities as they were, beneath the ground, or to build them as they had here at McDonalds, to exterminate this supposed devolved humanoid presence, or to leave it, to have geo-thermal, space based solar, or nuclear power; it didn’t matter, none of it was ever resolved, and those that were soon led to more equally difficult questions. What had been state effort, had turned corporate, then state owned corporate when they had gone bankrupt. Using his own connections and the capital of Regency, Michael had purchased enough of the debt to hold controlling interest over the project, and what he hadn’t purchased he held options for. He would re-create the industrial powerhouse of his grand-father’s day, and he would use the promise of his ability to pay for it.

He ascended in the central lift to the upper floor of the city’s largest sky scraper. Crossing the Council’s private lobby his requested two four-man squads of Seraphim Guard were already on duty and had received the memo of the takeover. They saluted as he passed to the thick wooden doors of the chamber. Grasping hold of both handles he threw the doors open and crossed into the room beyond. Before him one councilor already was standing apparently caught mid-word in a heated argument with another. He now stood silent, flabbergasted at the untimely entrance. “Gentlemen I have good news. The argument is now over, this project is moving forward, and you are all hereby dismissed from my employ; please join the security personnel just outside to be escorted off the premises.” His words cut through the icy reception and he offered a warm smile as they paled before him. Slowly walking forward they stood still, unsure of what to believe. As he approached they parted between him, and nothing the guards there was a russel of bags being packed.

“This is outrageous.” One of the older members stated. At first Michael made no indication of responding. His gaze remained fixed as he stared off over the city. Then he responded, not with the grace of addressing an equal, he did not meet the other man’s gaze, rather he didn’t even turn to face him.

“Haven’t you wasted enough time already?” He turned to face the voice, "Get out."

Edited June 6, 2010 by iamthey

[iamthey]

Silence held the room, Michael stood at the head of the Administrative council’s ovular wooden table, joined by seven young faces he had appointed to fill the roles of those he had removed. “I do not speak the backwards language of kings and politics. It is one which rewards the meaningless, and punishes the purposeful, so I will speak plainly. We are not here to answer the question of what, that question has already been pondered for half a century; we are here to make a determination of action, to answer the question of how. For too long you, the best of your field’s, have been answerable to the idle mouth pieces that occupied this room. No longer, you are the actors now, and you are answerable only now to me. This installation is potentially as much a military stronghold as it could be a commercial and economic treasure trove. More importantly the government will pay dearly for a measure of progress at this island, and we will be here to rake the windfall of their investment. Whatever questions you have, forget them. You are not here to ask questions, you are here to do as I say. ”

“The delay of this project is an effect, one with multiple causes. The first being the incompetence of your predecessors, the second and third being, the presence of a hostile population on the island, and the existence of antiquated Dominion security systems. The first has been resolved, the remaining shall now be answered. As I stand before you orders are being executed by Pacifica’s elite cadre, the Seraphim, who are carrying out an extermination protocol, the subject of which is the hostile primitive bipedal beats which cluster around the western mountains of the island, as well as the crazed human survivors which have been starved and altogether driven mad by the deprivation of life on those islands. The third will soon enough be resolved when our engineering teams break into the military facilities there and investigate further the currently active systems. Nonetheless there will be no further delay.”

“The model of the facility will be that of an inverted step pyramid, and it will be fully subterranean. The first level will be the population, housing and administrative center. It will consist of a series of terraces descending, each level a community unto itself. At the base there will be a central gathering place where the city as a whole might look to from above, or meet openly upon. The city’s class structure will be divided geographically. The upper city will house the higher level bureaucrats, officials, and individuals of importance, the lower city will house the laborers, technicians, mechanics ect. Social segregation will be passively enforced with shops and retailers tailored to each population within relatively close distance to their target clients. The second level will be a fully automated industrial complex requiring minimal human interaction with exception to managing technicians, and maintenance personnel. The level below that will be a fully artificial environment tailored to the production of food and natural sustenance. It will also utilize plants as a partial natural purifier of the city’s atmosphere, though automated facilities above will be able to fill the gap or compensate completely with chemic ally based processes. Beneath that will be, in the case of the primary city located at the site of what was once centre, will be a Royal Compound to be utilized as a back up national administrative center. The compound will also serve a secondary hub for all island systems. Finally beneath that will be a water collection reservoir, the purpose of which will be to collect the ground water that would typically flood each installation for distillation and use in drinking, agriculture, or production. Any excess will be pumped to the surface for disposal.”

“We will utilize the existing craters as the housing for the first level, and to ensure that the facility is fully sealed in we will create a surface covering, a circular door of unprecedented size to be divided into eight parts which we will be capable of opening and closing. The doors should be resistant to corrosion, relatively light weight, and thick enough to survive direct bombardment. The city overall should be such that it is air and by extension water tight so that a series of surface lakes can be utilized as natural cover for the facilities.”

“On the matter of the existing tunnel system on the island, we will sweep through it, clear it out, and renovate it to serve our purposes. Its entrances currently small yet typical doors, will be replaced with fortified [url=http://media.giantbomb.com/uploads/0/118/853603-101_super.jpg]vault[/url] doors. The surface hatches currently cleverly concealed manholes will be replaced with combat ready hatches which will be produced from heavy metal alloy. They will seal both externally and internally and may be raised providing a ready pill box as well as overhead and near fully body cover to anyone within it. The vertical shaft below leading down to the sealed tunnel system will capable of being additionally sealed with a thick two piece metal door approximately three meters across and twenty centimeters thick providing a platform for the personnel utilizing the hatch to stand on as well as an additional layer of security to the tunnel system. The hatch itself will be raised by hydraulic pistons and will provide a 360 degree opening about fifty centimeters high. These will be strategically placed across the islands.”

“The old transit system will be rebuilt and updated to Pacfician standards providing rapid Hexlev transit between the cities for freight as well as passengers. Centralized geothermal power installations located beneath the mountains in the quasi-volcanic south west will provide all power to the islands, all communications, and electricity will be centralized and distributed via secure underground lines. We will again attempt to renovate or otherwise update surviving systems, though I suspect we will mostly be starting from scratch.”

“The old closed territory policy of the islands will be resumed making Mc Donald’s the only open port to trade and entrance. This city itself will be demolished and rebuild as the other three core cities will.”

“The military nerve center of the island will be located where the old one was, though it too will be updated, and expanded to reflect the strength of Greater Pacifica. It will be the central hub capable of overseeing and controlling all island facilities, and will house an administrative construct. This facility, and the installation overall will moreover be the new home and base of the Seraphim. Its seclusion and defensibility make it an ideal headquarters.“

“This entire project will be funded initially by massive direct grants from the state which will be funneled through a series of private financial organizations. This will form the basis of capital in the new Central Bank which we will setup exclusively for the island. The Island will moreover be designated an independent administrative zone, much as it already is though now in writing. The new bank will purchase corporate bonds from the corporate institutions, we will establish to carry out the projects and ultimately the construction of this island. These corporations will total seven, and will each oversee a critical area of eventual economic production. Each will be expected to be run for profit, for now on government contract, and each will create the appropriate sub-subsidiaries to achieve their underlying aims. As you will note there are seven of you now, each of you I have determined to be of the utmost competence and each of you will be chartered by me, the provost of this administrative zone, to operate within a jurisdiction of production. It is my hope that in total beyond the presence of a military/police force, and myself, as well as my agents, acting as arbiters in your disputes, that you can cooperate understanding your mutual dependence for your industries’ respective mutual gain, and the competent completion of the contracts you undertake.”

“Understand that when this project is completed you seven will remain to look after yourselves here. Taxes will be relatively minimal, there will be a single simplified corporate tax, a personal income tax, a capital gains tax, and a consumption tax all well below pacifician standards. It will be your responsibility to maintain the facility which you reside within, you will be asked respectively to purchase the facilities both residential and commercial, and the areas relevant to your jurisdiction. The corporation responsible for utilities will need to purchase the water reservoirs, the geothermal plants, the electrical grid, the communications and transportation system excetra. And if one of you slacks or cuts corners it will damage all of you. I will continue to administer the installation as provost, and I intend to appoint a prefect to each city who will function as my delegate. He will hold absolute police powers, and will be final arbiter appealable only to myself.”

“It should also be noted that for all intents and purposes I will be your banker and therefore your chief shareholder. As such failure is not an option. That is all for now, I will issue directives and charter you within the week.”

[iamthey]

*Private*

[quote]
[b]Entry #41[/b]

I have been given the opportunity to design a society, though at this point I do not yet know if I will be the architect of a paradise or a hell. Regardless it will be something dynamic. My grandfather theorized of uniting the allocative efficiency and creative power of the capitalist profit motive with the simplicity of the streamlined state bureaucracy, and so he has experimented with his own worlds. Despite his best efforts, the monstrosity he has created is a fickle beast, sometimes deathly ill of a cancer it cannot be rid of, other times as it is now, a robust engine of production.

It is not enough to leave profit intact but to control decisions through the state. This merely disconnects the goals from the means of production. It reduces production to the mystical province of a select and promised few, while leaving those who utilize it with the arrogance of their demands, and the ignorance of the ‘somehow’ which precedes them. What does a bureaucrat on a board know of metallurgy, or mining, or petroleum. How could he possibly make decisions for such an industry, or know what was optimal for production. There are few as gifted as myself in terms of ability, and even fewer who have the means to release their promethean energy upon the world. A mere bureaucrat certainly has no place to fill the role that only one as myself could hope to be capable of, that of the impartial judge, the administrator who could connect demand with reality, and therefore production with profit.

Instead one must deal with business and profit as it should be dealt with, through contract. Beyond the venture for my fund which the Kergulens represent, it is a most interesting social experiment which may resolve the question ‘can mutually dependent corporations govern themselves?’ Though I could step in at any point both as their creditor, or with the absolute authority I wield, I would rather not. What I want, is to create the giants I require to undertake the mammoth scale of this project, to put at their helm to sort of able men I have found, and to watch as they fulfill my vision. I want to see if they can create the sort of engine of production and innovation that has for so long alluded Mr. Devereaux. And while I know that I am submitting the population that will come to reside on the islands to a life largely circumscribed by these larger forces; forces I am helping to build, my theory of society demands it.

I can see now that when one sacrifices the strong to the weak the result is simply mediocrity, and diminished capacity. I can see that death is the slow release of our energy, just as the transition of warmth to cold is the move from a concentrated state to a diffusion. To this end I know that the only way to foster life is either to leave it as it is, or to aid in its centralizing mission. We must sacrifice the weak at the altar of an icon to creation. There are few men who are truly gifted with the ability to produce. Those of us who are have it in us to be heroes in our own right, but so much more is possible. As a race our existence is only justified and made valid by the exceptional among us. Who remembers the ordinary, the mediocre, the typical? It is this moral duty to which I now refer: we must make of our mere heroes, gods.

Sincerely Yours,

Michael[/quote]

Edited June 7, 2010 by iamthey

[iamthey]

The fifty first floor of the administrative building on McDonland's island had been bought out by Regency Transcontinental approximately a month ago, two days before Michael had made his entrance on the island. Like their former center of operations located out of the thirtieth floor of one of Wellington's premier investment banks, this floor had no windows. It was also inaccessible by any public elevator and any public stairway. In fact the only way to gain entrance to the floor was via a private service elevator and stairwell requiring special identification located in one of the lower basements. The room itself had a dark atmosphere, attributed to the lack of any centralized lighting system, but rather a series of individual desk lights located at each of one hundred and twenty five different employees. The northern wall was a single large video screen, sub-divided and set constantly to over twenty international market watch channels and a single large central screen dominated by private direct data flows generated by special market watch agents employed by Regency. In front of the screen was 5 even rows of 25 desks each occupied largely by three suspended transparent glass monitors, and each desk a single large virtual desk top with a virtual keyboard and mouse. The floor was solid black obsidian, and the walls a course dark concrete. The room had a modern sleek feel, reflected in its efficient stainless steel furniture. The southern wall was a raised second floor one half occupied by four offices belonging to the fund's four Executive Analysts, and the other half dominated by a single large office which belonged to Atrevier, as well as a private board room and anteroom which connected the two half's and provided a buffer between the second floor and the open first. Atrevier's office was essentially a glass cube, with a northern window overlooking the bullpen below, and a western window looking in on the office's of his employees. The glass itself was a specially manufactured Smart glass which through the application of voltage could render the transparent windows, an opaque reflective black. Internally it also functioned as a wall screen controllable via his own touch screen desk or portable transparent tablet. Today the windows themselves were darkened.

"So it was you then, who brokered our nation's deal with the Italian Remnant?" Michael spoke, as his guest, Viktor Konrad sat before him.

"Yes it was."

"You did an excellent job, I will recommend you for a diplomatic commendation- If you ask it of me."

"Thank you my lord, but that will not be necessary."

"Money then, a promotion, you have done your nation, and your King a great service."

"I do not request that either."

"Then answer me this question, why?"

"To be of service to you."

Michael raised his eyebrow at this response. "Why serve me? I am only the Prince."

"And why should I serve a King who hides his face from public, or the blind bureaucrat who's gaze fails to extend beyond the walls of his office?" Atrevier offered a slight smirk. "You on the other hand, those who know you admire you, whether they are an enemy or a friend. Of this race, you stand as exceptional, in your natural form, apparently superior to even those who's ability science has manufactured. You are someone worthy of my service, and to return land to the nation that you will one day control was my sole motive."

"And this remains your motive?"

"Yes."

Michael paused. "I have reviewed your file, you were the product of one of our military eugenics programs, one of our best and gifted with longevity. Highly educated at the Wellington Academy you were a student of engineering, and a gifted officer. Highly trained, you were a veteran of the Vanguard force, and at one time you were a member of the Seraphim. Yet you were discharged- you contravened the orders of a civil servant who unfortunately had enough pull to have you removed. Yes I think you will do fine... I am looking for someone that I can trust, and will trust me. Someone who will carry out my orders, and someone able enough to do so. Does this interest you?"

"A servant?"

"An agent of my will, a right hand." Konrad quickly stood and bowed at the waist.

"I would be honored." Michael nodded.

"Good. Now, the first matter of business concerns the Articuno Islands. The Oceanic Union is preparing to turn over the parcels of the South China Sea. There is little at this point Pacifica could do to halt it, and by in large opinion within the bloc seams to be leaning towards such a turn over. I want you to return to Wellington and inquire about the personal sentiments of the officials among the state. Do a general survey of the population and determine their feelings as well towards such a scenario. Wherever it isn't spread dissatisfaction, and do what you can to engineer outrage. The public will understand that the bloc is turning over territory to an enemy of our allies, and the wealthy will understand the various economic detriments of allowing the Islands and their policy regime to expand."

"Moreover, Pacifica has made its proposal to the bloc with a reasonable means of correcting particular flaws in the treaty, such that all members will be equally limited without any one or collective being given arbitrary power over the others. The bloc has all but rejected it, so the situation must be exploited among the academic and political circles, such an issue would flow well with them. You were a senior member of the Diplomatic Corps, I am sure you will have no trouble with simple instigation."

"It will be done." Konrad turned and left. Michael's eyes trailed him until he left the room. He was not sure how capable the operative would be, but this would be a simple enough test. He did not doubt his convictions, his own sense of self esteem would not doubt that. What he had said was unconditionally true: the top levels of the Pacifican Government were hardly worth service, let alone the risking of one's life. He could see full well why a betrayed soldier, and a well connected diplomat might look to him as a leader. The truth was, the matter had become stale, and the dynamic nature of the Oceanic Union had ceased to be such. The violent expansion of Greater Pacifica had been as he anticipated, rejuvenating for all but the defeated. The motion of the world had finally be kicked back into flux, and change itself was afoot. But now that it was finished, the sterile reality had become clear, the ideology of many of Pacifica's peers was no longer one of change, but of preservation. They had no interest in reaching out or allowing change, of pitting one group against another, but of acting as a bulwark to any such incident, like both his grandfathers they had become a force of reactionary tendencies. And so he would have to set about a shift within his own state.

Though this was only half of his attention, while destruction was on his mind; so was creation. The seven he had selected had all moved to establish their corporations. Regency had received hundreds of billions in grants from Wellington, most of which had gone into the establishment of the new Kergulen Central Bank. This initial capital had formed the basis of the new currency established, the Pacifican Mark. When Regency's other projects destroyed the Pacifican Economy he wanted a fall back point, a new financial and industrial center to revive the nation with. As he would be credited with creating it, it would be he who would be seen as the nation's savior. With the new Mark he had purchased through the bank, all the shares of the seven new corporations who had then gone about acquiring the equipment and resources necessary to begin accepting state contracts. He expected them to be ready by the beginning of next month.

Now, it was only a matter of timing.

Edited June 13, 2010 by iamthey

[iamthey]

Michael had issued the proper writ of approval six months ago, and with that the Seraphim had begun the project to exterminate the mutated humanoid population clustered at the center of the island. The scientists had worked for awhile to answer the enigma of what exactly they were or represented, but no one could offer a clear or accurate answer. All they knew was they were vaguely human in appearance, hostile, and were incapable of understanding any known language. Scientists had attempted several times to administer the mirror test, but in all instances the beings themselves had failed. Studies done by field units noted that they did not seem to communicate between one another rather they simply wandered, sometimes in packs, sometimes alone.

Michael himself had a vague idea of what they might be, a theory that he had yet to share. From family stories that he understood, the Dominion, had at one time possessed an engineered servile population termed ‘suboids’. At one point there were supposed to be facilities located at the center of the island, which had produced them, though it was unknown if they still existed. He also knew that only the cities themselves were targeted, and that the external facilities, and the offshore mining rigs would had been left untouched. It was possible that the beings themselves without their masters had devolved and returned to a savage existence, it was also possible automated systems had continued to produce them and that these were simply un-socialized beasts. But these were not his primary concern, he had been told that a construct known as alice, much like the one the Seraphim utilized, was retained at the island and handled a large portion of their administrative work. It was possible that the construct still existed and that it was what had sealed the central military installation. It was even conceivable that it was what was controlling, or at least producing the humanoids. The periodic sound of gun fire could be heard echoing throughout the mountain range. Though this did not disturb him in the least. Atrevier was modestly dressed, he wore a pair of thinning black pinstripe slacks, a white tailored dress shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up, and a matching pinstripe vest as well as a stylish black tie. He stood atop a large bundle of structural carbon-steel alloy gutters which were being lowered into the crater nearly five kilometers deep. Holding onto the central cable he gazed off into the distance, his eyes came to rest on the skeleton of a colossal foundry, one of four being constructed at each build site. In addition to producing the needed metal alloy, they would also be specialized for the necessary task of constructing each of the eight pieces to the mammoth doors which would shield the subterranean cities. His own projections didn’t predict their completion until the end of the year, for now the build materials would be constructed by foundries at McDonald’s as well as under contract from the metallurgical conglomerate in the homeland. As he was lowered slowly into the pit he admired the honey comb design. The main crater would be the population center, which stair stepped down five kilometers from the upper levels to a central gathering area at the center. Each home and office would be constructed into the cliff walls all entrances converging inward. For now there was only a vague framework which spiraled down the crater accompanied by a series a caves which had been blasted into the rock wall and were now being reinforced.

Workers held by harnesses repelled and maneuvered around the frames moving about with the delicate precision of acrobats. The pervasive sound of welding permeated the atmosphere, as did the acrid sent of industrial construction. These were aspects Michael took note of, as the crane load approached the particular cell he was asked to appear at. When the load was within three feet of the framework Atrevier lept from the load landing evenly on the center of the I bar frame, slowly standing he spotted the guide that had been sent to meet him.

“Good afternoon your Highness.” Atrevier nodded. The man’s voice possessed a deep quality, and his eyes conveyed certainty.

“Construction seems to be turning along nicely, I am impressed by the progress.”

“ I wouldn’t normally say this but it’s really due to your direction here. This site sat without progress for nearly half a century.” Atrevier was silent for a moment.

“Yes I am essentially to this project’s moving forward, but so are you, and all of these workers.” He let his hand sweep the site. “It takes more than one man of ability to make such a dream a reality. I may have ideas and organizational talent, but you foremen and builders are also equally important instruments. This project was stalled by the incompetence of the men who held the chair I now occupy. Without them this installation would have been completed years ago.”

“Indeed.” Michael followed the work foreman into one of the caves, until they came to a temporary door. Lifting his right hand, the worker exerted pressure upon the barrier, and in the dim light Michael noticed the outline of a tattoo. A serpent devouring its tail. The door parted to reveal two of the site supervisors each one representing one of the respective construction subsidiaries. They stood silent for only a moment before the one to the left replied.

“Eh, your Highness its good to see you made it down here alright.” Michael nodded.

“What is the issue?”

“Eh minor dispute, we are not certain of who is supposed to work on this particular section of the facility.” Michael didn’t respond. “You- see, these orders state that we are both tasked to work on it.” Michael simply stared at the supervisor, his face refusing to express any emotion. “We’ve never been tasked to work on the same sector before. There is no protoc-”

“You called me down here to answer this?”

“Well-“

“What do you have to say about this?” He asked the other supervisor.

“There is no protocol, who’s supplies do we use, who gets paid?” Atrevier released a heavy sigh.

“Get out, both of you; you are useless.” He then turned to the foreman who led him in. “Are you an engineer?”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright I want you to take their place, in whichever company you work for. Another Supervisor to replace your counterpart will arrive shortly.” The man nodded. “In the mean time you both will collaborate and work on the sector splitting your supplies and labor evenly. Just get the job done.”

[b]*Fifty First Floor of the Central Administrative Building at McDonald’s Island*[/b]

Konrad had not been surprised by the contents of the envelope. Inside upon a sheet of expensive regency letterhead stationary it read. [i]”Southern Germany, and France were the origin of each weapon utilized in the attacks on Galveston. Make it so.”[/i] Upon reading it Konrad had burned the page and proceeded to work. As a member of the Seraphim and an adept intelligence officer he had learned the ins and outs of framing a subject, as well as the art of fabricating evidence too vague to be refuted but too compelling to be discounted. He knew that an outright deal between governments would be easily torn down, but there was enough uncertainty around both nations to say that something may have went wrong. For South Germany he knew that they had apparently decommissioned their nuclear stockpile, and so he went about piecing together shipping records, and odd travel times for particular German nuclear scientists. Breaking into former Novak Security systems he found camera footage of members of the organization which conducted the attacks, doctoring them he inserted particular members of the South German Military Bureaucracy, members which he knew were now dead. Emails and shipping orders with supposed unique electronic watermarks were also created and packed into the file. The idea would be to create multiple vague stories some alleging that nuclear weapons went missing, others saying that German Scientists were contracted to build one in Novak, and others that said German political groups helped to back the operation with intelligence support and money. With respect to France the portrait he attempted to paint was much different. Publicly France’s imperial ambitions produced anxieties among other international powers and provided motive for seeing the United States removed from the picture. Through a similar web of fabrications and irrefutable match ups of officials and private French consultants, with coinciding visits to Novak he set the stage for additional stories indicating that French interests helped to supply and produce the second nuclear weapon. It was likely that once both sets of stories became public they would be able to largely discredit them, but for some nations it would stick, and in some instances there would be no way to comprehensively account for the coincidence. The fact is neither nation can be omniscient or truly account for their millions of federal and private employees. After twelve hours of work he at last saved the entire set of files to a secure disk before wiping all traces of the work off his system. When Atrevier returned he would hand it to him in person.

Edited June 24, 2010 by iamthey

[iamthey]

The list was four pages long, it was printed on fiber woven parchment, its value exceeding the total net worth of a vagrant; on each of its pages were four evenly spaced columns. The lettering was printed in high quality ink, likely originating from one of the expensive printers resting in the workroom of the 51st floor belonging to Regency Transnational. The various columns contained many proper nouns, some names, some institutions, and some various firms and private groups making up a portion of the Pacifican Business finance network. The list was first composed from the mind of Michael Atrevier, a casual activity he had scheduled into his day simultaneously with a progress report on the construction of the Kergulen facilities. He had done so as the report itself would largely be a formality, it came with the assumption that he had not read the textual overview filed by the various supervisors, however he had already committed it to memory by the time they reported to this office. As they spoke, he had recalled from his own research the different political, social and economic enemies he was preparing to target in the end game, the final culmination of the various projects Regency had undertaken. He intended to use Royal Group, the investment bank, Imperial Group – commercial bank, Royal Bank merger he had engineered, as a shelter for his own allies, when the time was necessary. Regency Transnational was a private unregistered hedge fund and investment management group protected and sponsored by Royal. As he penned each name into his tablet he nodded feinting interest in what the supervisors had to say, while methodically cross checking their verbal report for inconsistency with their written one. The completed list was printed remotely through a secure heavily encrypted transmission, and retrieved from the printer by Viktor Konrad. Enveloped he carried it personally to Wellington where it came to rest on the personal desk of Lorne Oliver, the President and Chief Executive Officer of Royal Group.

“Michael, I know what you’ve done for me… yes I know how much you’ve brought in revenue wise… yes I know Royal Group was your creation… look I just can’t drop all of these people, some of these are not even individuals they are whole corporate firms, that’s a lot of money.”

“Any deposits you lose in this purge, will be replaced. I guarantee it.”

“But how can you guarantee it?” Michael was silent. “Alright I won’t ask.”

“We are in business Lorne, we deal in contracts. I am offering you a trade, terminate your services with those on my list, and the party you have been living in, continues. There will be no damage to your institution. I need Royal Group so before you start questioning my motives, ask yourself why I would have reason to lie to you?”

“But… what about my obligations to my clients.”

“Consideration.”

“What?”

“It is a fundamental principle of contract law, you cannot be contracted into the service of another unless they offer something of value in return.”

“I don’t understand?”

“The people and firms on my list have no value, they are utterly devoid of virtue, they are morally, philosophically, and intellectually bankrupt. Money is a symbol, it represents the value of those who possess it, and the virtues one under takes to acquire it. One who acquires money without virtue strips it of its meaning. As these individuals are worthless, the money they have offered you in exchange for your services is illusory, counterfeit, it has no value and so your contract and obligation to them is void.”

“Pardon but… Isn’t that a bit...”

“No. I have watched the life drain from a human face as I slit their throat, but I carried with me to that task a particular dignity. My task needed to be done, someone required the death of another and offered a contract for it. My services had value to them, as did their money to me. The law is not a standard of right or wrong, only power provides such a standard. My life is the channeling and manipulation of that power, it may be into something useful and meaningful such as the production of a vastly useful commodity, or the creation of a city, but it may also be the conquest of my of my enemies, or the taking of another human’s life. Right now I am fulfilling an obligation to a sizable group of investors, who have entrusted to me billions of their credits, each of whom I have surveyed and determined is sufficiently of worth to retain my services. I am not a hypocrite, because of the respect I pay to myself, to reality, and to those who I am obliged to. The hypocrites are those who espouse a false value system. One built upon self deceit and thus self loathing. The hypocrites are those who do not transcend the ordinary but sink to live among the sub human. The hypocrites are those who live in such a condition and think themselves great because of it. That said, if you will see to my list I would very much appreciate it.

*click*

Edited June 27, 2010 by iamthey

[iamthey]

*Private*

Michael's return to the islands had been as warmly welcomed as his departure from wellington had been cold. Over the months he had grown to sense a sort of resentment and jealousy directed at him within the capital. As his accomplishments became more widely known, namely his work at the Kergulens, and his economic prowess, others who thought themselves rivals began to more frequently come out of the woodwork. His own abrasive nature, candid manner, and controversial views only magnified it. The meeting with the teacher had given him a measure of hope, a fellow mind amidst the hell of his many inferiors, but he had heard nothing since the introduction. Regardless he continued to move forward, the completion of the Kergulen installation would coincide with his other economic projects, and if the PFP in parliament it would provide both the opportunity to remove Devereaux, his only potential obstacle, as well as destroy the right wing movement in the Pacific once and for all.

The construction itself was progressing at an impressive rate, in the three years of the construction the four major superstructures for each of the four cities had been completed, the basic skeletons of each inverted tower could now be seen in its entirety. Below it and around it the primary tunnels and cavities meant to serve as dwellings and industrial/production facilities had been dug, and partially concealing them were thick plates of metal alloy bolted into place at various points.

Sitting in the rear of a Pacifican Helicopter he observed the construction from above. Around the massive crater were four of the six equilateral triangles which would one day make up the surface door shielding the contents of the abyss below, as well as concealing the existence of human activity on the islands. However, his mind was no longer on the construction itself, the details of that had been solved by his engineers, the subject of his thoughts was now defense. A problem which he would now address.

Edited December 9, 2010 by iamthey

[iamthey]

* Private memo of meeting on the proposed Kergulen Meritimes/seafloor defense installations*

[quote]
[IMG]http://imgur.com/G849F.jpg[/IMG]


[b]Anti-Naval Defense Network[/b]
[u](Black Circles): Fixed Sea Floor Defensive Rings[/u]
Along the circle every 300 Meters , and within each circle forming concentric rings every 10 km are seafloor anti Ariel anti naval defense modules. Each module is itself unexposed and is concealed, making it indistinguishable from the surrounding environment. Each module is tied into the central defense coordination program allowing its targeting to be linked with SOSUS listening posts, orbital satellite views, ariel electronic warfare vehicles, and the sensors of other maritime vessel . The modules themselves are based on a similar defensive regime implemented across Greater Pacifica. Each has four basic elements.

[b]Torpedo Tubes:[/b] There are 10 tubes on each installation, with over 60 torpedoes in stock and an automated reload system. A mix of supercav, direct impact and slower, stealthier conventional torpedoes all with a range of 50km, and warheads designed for dual charge penetration / waterjet creation. With their range, between three and four sets of tubes can engage a single surface or submerged enemy.

[b]Missile Cells:[/b] These contain a mix of anti ship and anti air missiles. They have ranges of about 350km and 250km respectively. They have warheads adapted for their specific targets, and are able to be independently targeted, or flown remotely.

[b] Shaped charge mine canisters:[/b] These are canisters holding thousands of small mines. Each mine has 2kg of highexplosive, powerful Neodymium magnets magnets at each corner of the tetrahedral case, and a pressure sensor and small RF set. The mines are armed upon release, and activate upon contact with a ship, sticking to it, and arming the charge, as well as sending out a RF signal informing other bomblets it is armed. When a bomblet is armed and picks up more a a certain number of armed signals, it ignites, blasting a hole roughly 30cm diameter, and up to 1.5 meters deep through the hull of the ship. As it does this all the other mines on that ship will also go off and so there will be at least 40 20cm holes created at the same time.[/b]

[b]Command Relay System: (backup in the event of central command failure)[/b] A set of redundant, EMP hardened sea floor cables, these use burst transmissions to share targeting data with the entire net work, and allow targets to be engaged at the highest efficiency. Also reports loss of point, and needing more ammo.

[u](Red Hexagon): Unfixed Defense/Sensory Array[/u]
[b]Sensory Array:[/b] Affixed to the seafloor of this zone is a redundantly linked and decentrally networked array of dual passive and active sonar listening posts. On the surface a series of small platforms provide a basis for a robust phased radar system allowing constant monitoring for airspace and maritime breach. In response to various advances made in stealth technology various anti-stealth countermeasures have been devised. In orbit various satellites provide near constant surface radar mapping coverage feeding the data into advanced military processing systems. Filtering protocols single out spots or holes in the radar generated image and prompt the activation of an Associative Aperture Synthesis Radar system. Small buoy platforms provide a staging point for thousands of inexpensive radar antennas while several hundred smart receivers receive and analyze the many different radar signals developing a synthetic radar cross section. Through this system conventional stealth measures can be overcome and an exact position for the craft can be developed. In the event of detection failure, antenna buoys are equip with high resolution optical and infrared cameras which may examine and search the skies based on the data provided by satellite ground radar. Together these systems are tied into the central defensive network coordinating targeting information with weapons systems to repel attacks.

[b]Unfixed Defense:[/b] Scattered across this zone is a series of unfixed independent torpedo modules. Each module contains one torpedo and upon activation floats the surface before targeting and attacking a surface or submerged vessel. Each tube is compact and provides no distinguishable quality from it and the ocean floor. Thousands of these systems have been deployed and may be triggered remotely or automatically by the rest of the defensive network.[/quote]

Edited September 29, 2010 by iamthey