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Chronicles of the Empire (R)

Discussion in 'The Story Board' started by Atoragon, Jul 3, 2013.

  1. Atoragon

    Atoragon *random sound effects*

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    Chronicles of the Empire

    Author's Note:

    As I look back on some of my old works, and look forward to time I will have while my ship is out hunting yet another submarine, I decided to go down a slightly more productive path than beating the pulp out of the same video game for the hundredth time. I decided to put my writing abilities to work and I am rebuilding one of my more looked upon pieces, Chronicles of the Empire; a non-sense look at the inner-workings of an intergalactic empire bent on domination of all known domains, both cameo and original… and the consumption of gratuitous amounts of candy.

    I do also realize that I built two beginnings to a promised sequel which never seemed to come to fruition. It is my hope that upon completion of this completely rebuilt Chronicles of the Empire that I may be able to actually produce the sequel as promised when the time comes.

    P.S. Thank you Morale, Welfare and Recreation (MWR) committee for setting up WiFi on the pier while my ship is visiting the Philippines. Due to this, Chronicles of the Empire can start over a month ahead of schedule. (Instead of waiting for return to home port in Yokosuka, Japan.)

    This work of fiction has been rated "R" by the author for adult language, violence and some gore. If you are easily offended by such things, I suggest you exit now. You have been warned.

    I'm posting the Prologue now, with Chapter One expected to come out tomorrow or Friday after I finish proofreading and last-minute polishing. I'm not sure on the schedule after that. It is dependent on future availability of WiFi.

    Prologue:

    "For the sake of the people of Osea's safety, we must be allowed to build arms! We can no longer stand by and let the aggression of our neighbors trample our nation while we wait for your so-called "Peacekeepers" to come to our aid!"

    "Captain Akmola, the U.N. Security Council understands your... situation," Rep. Marcus Bolton of the United States murmured as he thumbed through his pages of notes. "But the Osean Federation cannot be allowed to build more weapons of war… Not after the events of the war 15 years ago."

    "That was a ******* war of self-defense!"

    "Regardless, Osea carpet-bombed entire cities without regards to civilian casualties. Half of the city of Farbranti was left as nothing but rubble and ash. There wasn't a single military installation within 100 miles of that city. What do you have to explain that?"

    "When someone strikes at Osea, we will respond in kind. During an Erusean air strike four days prior to the event that you brought up, Erusean precision-guided bombs struck multiple schools and hospitals throughout our capital city of Oured. Approximately 10,000 women and children were killed."

    "According to an Erusean rep-"

    "Of course it would be an Erusean report! Do you think their investigators would throw their own country under the bus?! Of course they would claim that is was a ****ing guidance chip malfunction because the out-sourced producer was the North Koreans! Why not have a neutral third-party do the ****ing investigation?!"

    "I think we've heard enough, Captain. This meeting is adjourned." The Security Council stood up and began to make their way towards the exit. Captain Akmola stood there motionless, glaring at every one of them as they left.

    "I really hate self-centered, arrogant American pricks," he scowled under his breath as the last council member left the room.

    "We know, sir. We know," replied the Captain's aide, Lt. Thomas, as he passed the captain his combination cover.

    "We're done here..."

    - - - - -

    A woman in long black trench coat leaned nonchalantly against a tree outside the UN headquarters. Her mess of curly blonde hair fell lazily over the dark sunglasses that obscured her eyes. She watched as the Captain and Lieutenant strode out the building and decided this was her time to make her move.

    "Excuse me, sir? Sir!" she called as she began to follow the pair of officers.

    "What do you want? I don't have time for American girl antics," Captain Akmola sighed.

    "Oh, no, sir, trust me. No antics, only business," she responded. She removed her sunglasses, revealing a pair of blue eyes that stared into your soul. "My name is Amelia, and I have a vision. My vision can save your country from the depths of despair. My vision will create a world where your family can live without fear of air strikes. But, I need your help in initiating the plan, Fleet Admiral..."

    "Fleet Admiral?"

    "Of course. That the title of the highest ranking officer, isn't it? In my vision, you are a key component. If you're interested, here's my card. We'll keep in touch."
     
  2. Atoragon

    Atoragon *random sound effects*

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    Chapter 1

    Chapter 1: The Rubble of War

    5 years, 7 continents later…


    Gravel crunched under their thundering tracks as the tank column came to a halt outside a house in the suburbs surrounding Alexandria, Virginia. A small tactical squad disembarked, breaching the house. Multiple screams could be heard from inside. One by one, the occupants were dragged out and forced to their knees in a row in the front yard of the house. One additional man disembarked the armored personnel carrier, polishing a revolver. A collection of 5 stars in a circle could be seen on his shoulder boards.

    “Mr. Bolton… We meet again…” Fleet Admiral Akmola mused as he looked up from the firearm he brandished in his hand. The man was trembling; stains soaked his trousers.

    “Acknowledge the Fleet Admiral when spoken to!” a soldier barked as he slammed the butt of his rifle into the man’s shoulder blade. He crumpled over, his forehead digging into the ornamental stone placed out front of the house.

    “That’s not necessary, sergeant… Marcus knows exactly why we’re here… He is the one who drove us to this… If only the UN had done what they stand for… If the UN had protected the nation of Osea when we cried for help, this all would’ve never happened…” The Fleet Admiral kneeled down and grasped Marcus’s hair, pulling his head back so that he could see the whites of his eyes.

    “Is this what this is all about?” he choked.

    “Yes, indeed it is,” the Fleet Admiral replied. “After our last meeting, I received an offer… I was skeptical at first, turning on my own nation in a massive Coup d’état, overthrowing the government and putting a woman I barely knew in charge as Empress… But then the UN “Peacekeepers” failed to show for the last time… And as my wife died in my arms… I made my decision… I would destroy the world’s superpowers… I would destroy the UN… I would destroy all those who promised to protect my country, but never came to our aid when we actually needed it… Five years and seven conquered continents later, we stand on turned tables, Mr. Bolton. Now you are the one living in the rubble of war. You will come groveling to my feet, begging for help, and I will look down at you and whisper, “no”, just as you did to me as my country burned, 5 years ago.”

    The Fleet Admiral signaled to one of the grunts. He grabbed Mrs. Bolton. Her screams of terror were deafening as the private wrenched her to her feet and shoved her into Marcus’s arms.

    “Mommy!” cried out their youngest son, but he was silenced as a boot was planted in his back, forcing him face-down into the ground.

    “Now you will have to endure the same despair as I did, Marcus…” The Fleet Admiral leveled the revolver at Mrs. Bolton’s head. “Tell her it will be alright. Tell her she will be saved by the heroes of justice and the police of the word…”

    “Honey… It’s going to be al-” Marcus froze in shock as the shot rang out from the revolver. Blood was splattered across his face and shirt. His two sons screamed at the loss of their mother. A bit of brain was stuck on his ear.

    “Sergeant, get rid of the children in any way you see fit… And as for you, Marcus,” the Fleet Admiral mused as he pulled back the hammer on the sidearm, preparing for a second shot, “This will be our last meeting…”

    - - - - -

    “Oh, come on! Get him! Get him!” the Empress cheered as the test-tube-created dragon tore apart a life size teddy bear. The white and blue dragon, which was created only a day prior, was growing at an incredible rate. It already stood at approximately 5 feet tall, and when fully grown (about a week from now) was predicted to be about 15-20 ft. tall.

    “I see his killing instinct is very much developed already,” mused Kip, an attendant of the Empress. “Have you decided on a name for him?”

    “Yeah… I was thinking of naming him Phil.”

    Phil? Really?”

    “Yeah! I mean, come on. Everybody has a dragon named Destroyer or Helldrake or Malchior or what not. But who could possibly live down the eternal shame of being torn to shreds by a dragon named Phil? They would be the laughing stock of all of Hell.”

    “Not leaving a single bit of honor in their death, I see…”

    “Of course not. I can’t let the people of our enemies get their hopes up. That’s why I’m having this televised on every channel in the Empire.”

    “… Did I miss something?”

    “Well, I may or may not have switched Phil’s favorite chew toy with a randomly selected world
    leader wearing a teddy bear suit…”

    “I’m assuming that explains the red stuffing…”

    “Yeah…”

    “I’ll get the clean-up crew…”
     

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