This is Altahalib-4. Here, the OPEC nations are superpowers.
Ah, the great wide savannas of the Southfork Reserve in East Africa... It seems that the Ewing Empire of Dallas finally got tired of sticking to cattle. Now, they own herds of buffalo and gnus...to name some.
Somewhere on all of this land, a stock trailer has been abandoned. Its towing truck has, too. Lately, a teenager has snuck over here, from Texas, to try to rustle some of the Ewings' buffalo.
He was a Barnes.
Not too far from here, there's a hole in the ground. Once, it was an aardvark's. Now, it's a litter's.
Inside, six cheetah cubs stumble about. Each one has a long gray Mohawk-like mane of fur growing from the tops of their heads all the way down to their lower backs. This is typical, of cheetah cubs...when they're this age. Rumor has it that, for this reason, they've been called the ugly ducklings of the cat world. If you ask me, though, whoever coined that idea must've been cokey.
These cubs won't be grey-Mohawked and cute for long, though. One day, they'll become bigger, and strapping. And they won't stop giving their mother a hard time...until they're all grown up...if not wised up.
At long last, their mother returns...with a Cape hare in her jaws. She throws it across the den. Her cubs chow down on it. Meanwhile, their mother plops down in the opposite corner, and takes a nap. Naturally, that hare gave her a devil of a time. And just as naturally, her kids are going to do worse, once they've rested from their latest meal.
Downhill, the buffalo herds move. They make a little thunder, as they do. They're not even running. But then, they are big. The cows are, too.
Like water in a creek bed, they flow. The herd is very vast. It looks just like a Red River fantasy. At this, one can understand why the Ewings ever wanted these herds so badly. Plus, most of them were worried that the Barneses would get to them first.
On the back of one of the cows, one already has. He just...hasn't done so in the way that he's meant to.
As the cow lumbers along, surrounded by many of her sisters, a white boy, from Texas, rides on her back. He's in the buff...and facing towards her ass. Up here, he does what the oxpeckers would do...as well as Brad Paisley; he checks her for ticks.
Don't worry, he doesn't eat them; he's not that savage...yet. Alas, he has been bitten by an animal, of late. If one looks closely, they can see the bite marks, still on the right side of his neck. (HIS right, that is...) It looks very bad. And in some ways, it doesn't even look natural...
Meet Remy Barnes. Once, he was the moodiest of Barnes men. That might or might not have been why the Barneses once sent him all the way out here, just to rustle some of the Ewings' buffalo. In the long-term, though, that turned out to be the wrong thing to do. Now, Remy's stuck here. He didn't even get to rustle calf one.
For now, he just plucks ticks off of this cow's bum. At times, he'd love to do this same exact thing, to some of the hot Ewing women back at home... Alas, if only the Ewing and Barnes families weren't notorious rivals...both in corporate economics, and personally...
For now, he feels like he's grown accustomed to this cow's bum. It's been three days...and she has yet to buck him off...
That party gets crashed, alas, as soon as Remy looks up from his "work." It seems...that the dominant bull of the herd is charging this cow from behind. He zooms in rather fast...and with a musthy fire in his eyes...and not to mention a musthy smoke in his breath...
"O shit," Remy mutters.
High above him, the dominant bull rears...and makes a scary noise, as he does so.
"BARREL ROLL," Remy shouts to himself, as he barrel-rolls off of his mount's back...moments before the bull's barrel chest would've crushed him like a tick. So, THIS is the thanks, it seems, that Remy gets from the bulls, for having kept their cows from becoming Edward Cullen's next bride...
As Remy recovers from the shock, he watches, from below, as the bull passionately mates with the cow he's just humped. He's still humping her. They both seem to be enjoying it...very much. It's almost as if Remy never mattered to that fat cow...
"Ugh," Remy grumbles, shielding his eyes, "get a room!" He looks around; there are no rooms out here, of course. "Or rather," he mutters again, "get an acre."
While humping, the bull stops, turns his head, and looks down at Remy. He's got passion in his eyes. But then, he has just fucked a cow...
Remy lies still. He's been here for a few months...and yet, he still has NO idea what bulls mean, when they do these things.
The stare lasts too long for Remy...but eventually moves on. The bull gets down from the cow, and off together, the two run...and play.
Surrounded by moving buffalo, Remy only shakes his head. "Women," he grumbles. "Just when you think you've found the way to their hearts..."
From high in the sky, noise approaches. It sounds like a plane. Remy looks up...and lies still, when he sees what it is.
The plane is small...but flies low. It bears the trademark of Ewing Oil. Whoever they are, they're from Dallas. Remy can sense it...
From nearby, something snickers. It's a zebra filly. Remy thinks he knows who she is. As a matter of fact, she's among the many faces he first met, when he first got stuck out here...
He thinks she's offering him her back. So, he mounts her. She pushes her way through the buffalo herd, climbs an embankment, and lopes off, towards the Southfork Lodge. Remy doesn't dare let go. After all, he's been wanting a second chance to take a shot against the Ewings for over three months, now... And back in Dallas, on the Barnes estates, he's pretty sure he's in good company.
This is the Southfork Lodge. It looks very much like most hunting lodges you'd expect to see in western North America. There's a metal arch over the front gate. Its keystone, or what not, is one of those ornamental bronze Texas lone stars. There are several others on numerous gables on the lodge house.
Here and there, across the grounds, a dik-dik, klipspringer, or duiker scurries. They're among the smallest antelope. They're often joined by jerboas, Cape hares, and/or springhares.
Every now and then, a band of vervet monkeys stops by. They never stay long. They can't. The groundskeepers are paid good money to keep them exterminated from the premises.
Onto a tarmac nearby, the Ewing plane lands...and does a bit of bouncing, via its wheels, while doing so. It slows to a stop. Nearby, a hangar door opens for it.
A golf cart takes the plane's main passenger across the estate, towards the main lodge house. She's an Ewing, of course. She's still not sure why she's here. All she knows is that it feels more secure than staying in Dallas would be, as soon as she got word that one of the Barnes boys might've died trying to rustle some of the Ewings' Cape buffalo.
Ms. Ewing, alas, is just as unsure as most Dallas natives are, as to why the Ewings NEED buffalo herds to their name. I mean, it's not like the Ewings' ancestors participated in the near-extinction of the bison, back in North America...that Ms. Ewing knows of... But then, if greed really does run in families, it seems VERY likely that the Ewings helped over-hunt the bison, in the 19th century... Ms. Ewing's also pretty sure that some of her ancestors were in the Union Army, and fought against Dixie... Hell, their sons probably slaughtered some of the red natives in the Indian Wars, after that...
Southfork Lodge is not the first time the Ewing family's had stake in East Africa. Back in the first half of the 20th century, Uganda was a British protectorate. Back in Scotland, the original fatherland of the Ewing family, a lot of Ewing men were recruited for the British Army. Hence, some of them were stationed in Uganda, to protect the protectorate. This estate was once a British fort. And you'll never guess who one of its commanders was... (Hint: his surname rhymes with "spewing.")
Ms. Ewing's not directly descended from him, though. She's a Texan; that British officer was... Well, British, of course. (He didn't like to think so, though. He was a proud and patriotic Scotsman, and never once forgave England for the 1708 Union Treaty, which forced Scotland to become an English subject...along with Wales, and later Northern Ireland, too...)
The golf cart turns at the gate, and rolls right in. For Ms. Ewing, these are certainly not the caliche roads of some North Texas ranches... But for now, they'll have to do. She won't comment as to whether she's racist...but she's pretty sure that most of her Ewing relatives, back in Dallas, are. Some of them, even, once supported Donald Trump, when the latter offered to build that wall between Texas and Guanajuato...as if having the Estrecho Grande to separate the two lands wasn't enough...
The golf cart stops in front of the house. Here, its main passenger gets out. She's in heels...and bare legs. When it comes to Ewings, she can be quite bureaucratic. Hence, it's almost creepy that for once, she doesn't hate the Barneses as much as her kin do...
Meet Laurel Ewing. Her hair is raven, and tied in a bun...for now. What she wears is clean-cut, and mostly white. It won't be for long. This is the East African savanna, after all.
On a hill nearby, a flock of crowned cranes forage. They're the national bird of Uganda. Wherever they go, it's a sign that the Ugandan state is expanding its influence. For the Ewings, this might be bad news...especially if the cranes land on Southfork land...
She walks around the house, where she can see the garden's plants. She cups her hands over her mouth. "LEOPOLD," she shouts. "LEOPOLD," she shouts again.
A noise distracts her. She looks around.
Nearby, a great black man stands. He's Luganda. He's also shirtless. He's one of the gardeners...or something up that alley. Ms. Ewing knows it's not wise to judge someone by their skin color...but she must confess that black looks scary, on that man...
There's another gardener, with a similar build. He's Luo. Unlike the Luganda, he's Nilo-Saharan. Hence, the two men are sometimes racist against each other. With that said, Ms. Ewing has NO clue, as to how Leopold, her main caretaker here, knows how to keep them subdued...
As if having two gardeners around who're racist against one another wasn't bad enough, one of the other gardeners is a Hong Konger...and hence, a Han. The Chinese have a lot of influence in Africa...and yet, have never had a colony here. This Hong Konger might not be a kung fu fighter...but if not for that formidable six-pack, he'd make a competent sumo wrestler.
There's a fourth gardener, too. Sadly, he's neither Luganda, Luo, nor Hong Kong Han. He's a Kannada...from Dravidian West India. As a Dravidian, he's much darker-skinned than most of his North Indian kin...who also happen to be kin to Ms. Ewing's race. He might have a few Indo-Iranian foremothers in him... But for now, Ms. Ewing wouldn't bet much on it. That's almost funny; as a Dallas Ewing, she's got way too much to lose.
In a racist fright, Ms. Ewing holds up her hands. "I don't want any trouble," she implores. "I'm just... I'm just looking for your boss. Have you seen him around?"
The four men stand bolt-upright, smirk, and cross their arms. She's got no idea if they understand what she's saying. O well; at least Leopold can talk to them... Or rather, she HOPES they can. Because if he can't, that'd make her stay here a LOT harder.
"Look," she says, "I know I'm white, but..." She shrugs. "I can't hurt you! I'm a woman. You know; one of those things, from your own races, whose holes your daddies really loved to plunge with their..."
The Luganda man strides right up to her, stands over her, crosses his big ebony arms, and smirks. Ms. Ewing's...got a hunch that he can understand what she says...but he's choosing not to speak just to intimidate her.
"Okay," she gulps. "Maybe your fathers weren't as primitive as I'd imagine. Even so, I just came a long way from Dallas, and... Uh, have you guys ever heard of the Dallas Cowboys? Yes; as embarrassing as it is, I'm kin to men who hold stake in that team. Well...technically, I've also got a male relative who holds stake in the Eagles. And ordinarily, that wouldn't be such a sin, except those two teams happen to be rivals, and..."
By now, the Kannada man and the Luo man have formed a semicircle, on either side of the Luganda man. It becomes clear, here, that they're all much taller than little Ms. Ewing. They're all crossing their big bulky arms. And they're all smirking.
Afar, the Hong Kong Han smirks, shakes his head, and gets back to pruning some shrubs. And the shrubs here ALWAYS need pruning. They have to. Even in the dry season, it's been known to rain every other day here.
"I," she's almost panting by now, "REALLY don't want any trouble. I just need to talk to your boss. Just tell me where he is! Can you speak English, or... O shit; let's see here... Ni huì shuō yīngyu ma... O SHIT, THAT WAS THE WRONG ONE! FUCK!"
She blocks her face, expecting the worst. Of all the languages spoken here, she just HAD to ask all three of them if they spoke English in the one language that would've been inappropriate, in this instance. She's asked them in Chinese; and the only Han man is nowhere in sight...primarily because the other three men are blocking him from her view.
As she ducks and shields her face, the Luganda man grins, flexes one of his huge arms, and makes a fist. His knuckles pop, as he does. Around him, the other two men follow suit. Their knuckles pop, too.
Now, they study one another. It looks as if they're going to fight over who gets to can the white girl's ass first...
"Hey," a German-accented voice calls out. "Stop picking on my boss! Get back to work! Raus! Schnell!"
The three men smirk, shake their heads, and get back to work. Some of them snicker...including the Luganda.
Leopold attends to his boss, and helps her to her feet. Leopold isn't an Ewing...but he's friends with the family. He's no ordinary German, either. He was born and raised in Gillespie County...not too far south of San Antonio. Fredericksburg is the county seat.
When Texas first started out, it was a German colony. Nowadays, most native Texans wouldn't know this. However, if they lived near a little town in Gillespie County called Fredericksburg, they'd hear German accents too many times to ignore it. This is the land of Leopold's roots. The story of how he came into contact with the Ewings is fascinating...but now's not the time to tell it. Even so, the Ewings trust him enough to run the estate out here.
Like the Ewings, Leopold's family also has ties with East Africa. In the days of the Kaisers, Tanzania was a German colony. The Second German Reich was very militarist, and conscripted countless able-bodied young men for the Kaiser's Heer. A lot of them got sent to Tanzania, to defend the colony there. Some of them later became Leopold's ancestors. Tanzania is too far south of Uganda, though; hence, it seems unlikely that Laurel's ancestors and Leopold's ancestors ever interacted. Plus, they would've been enemies during both World Wars. My, how times change...
Laurel pants, and fans herself. "God," she says, "sometimes the people here are just as bad as the fauna!"
Leopold nods. "They sometimes like to make fun of you behind your back. But then, for them, that's easy; you're never hier."
She studies him. "And...have YOU, our trusted caretaker...ever participated in said 'fun?"
He smiles. "I think it would be best...to neither confirm nor deny that accusation."
She nods slowly. "Just as long as I don't overhear it myself." She glances at the gardeners. "They don't speak English, I presume?"
"Nein, they do. It's just that some of them have to get to know people, before feeling free to spreche."
She nods. "I get that. In ways, I'm like that to."
He laughs. "You sure didn't do a convincing job of proving that, just jetzt."
"Ah, great. You were nearby, and yet, you didn't stop them while they were ahead."
"I tell them how to do their Arbeitsplätze. Harassing you isn't their Job."
She studies him.
"But in my defense, I was prepared to call 911, if it got that schlimm."
She smiles. "THAT'S what I like to hear." She looks over at the hill. "That flock of cranes, over there. How often do they come by?"
He shrugs. "They're the country's national Vogel. Legally, they can go wherever they want to, within the country's borders...although that's not to say there are too many people who'd try to stop them, if they DID cross Uganda's Grenzen..."
"We've filled out a LOT of paperwork with the Ugandan government, just to have a piece of land here. As much as I revere the government just as much as any conservative...I get REALLY paranoid when the government tries to appropriate a homeowner's assets without probable cause. And from what I've been told, livestock is the ONLY industry this land specializes in." She studies him. "I am right about that, am I?"
Leopold nods. "Sie sind. We all just need you to realize that the crowned crane is merely the national bird of this Nation. They've just as much Freier Wille as the Luganda do. They go wo ever they please, wo ever they do. And from what I've heard, they're Glücklich. Not all Ugandans, after all, have as many politische Freiheiten as every Texan does."
"So I've heard. Fine; just as long as they are just birds. I'd hate to think that the Ugandan government is capable of doing anything else with them, besides putting them on a pedestal."
Leopold scoffs. "Does a Christ weaponize Jehovah? Seems like they wouldn't have to, if Jehovah was already allmächtig."
She studies him.
"You told me," he continues, "when you called, why Sie kommen. But might I ask...why do you care so much what happened to this Barnes Junge? Aren't you Feinde?"
"Yes and no...and mostly yes. The truth is, I don't actually KNOW why I care about him so much. I just feel bad, for some reason, that he came all the way out here to rustle our buffalo, and didn't come back. Plus, he was on Ewing land when he went missing. Hence, the Barneses are probably going to blame us for his vanishing...as much as none of us can take the credit for it." She hesitates. "Don't...tell any of the Barneses I said that."
He arches his brows. "Will I get a raise, just for das?"
She hesitates again. "We'll talk about that later. The main thing is, I need to know. Don't ask me why; I don't know either."
"You're very mutig, for coming out here at all. Most of my gardeners would rather be living in Dallas, mit Sie."
She scoffs. "Trust me; it only SOUNDS glamorous." She looks around. "I don't suppose your zoo exhibits of gardeners could help me with my baggage?"
"Ugh; they're not therapists. Aber, if you'd like, I could recommend a shaman in Kampala. She's never been as rich as you, but she's given counsel to the Luganda König, and..."
She studies him again.
Leopold blinks and grins. "Recht; I get it." He whistles for the gardeners, and summons them to help Ms. Ewing with her "baggage."
From far away, Remy watches, as the gardeners help the newly-arrived Ms. Ewing with her matched luggage. Remy wouldn't know...but he'd wager that her matched luggage was once a Christmas gift to her, from the CEO of JCPenney.
He's still aback the zebra filly, studying what goes on at the Ewing estate from a distance. In this role, he feels a bit like Sheena, Queen of the Jungle...or Tarzan...or George of the Jungle...or Ka-Zar, from the Marvel universe... Alas, none of those characters were lycans...although there was a TV show, at the turn of the millennium, about Sheena, where she could shapeshift into animals...
Remy's not sure what to do about this. He can certainly say he was more expecting one of his fellow Barneses to come out here looking for him. But then, of course, he's caused a lot of trouble in Dallas, lately. It'd make perfect sense, if the Barneses would rather leave him out here, to perish...if they're not all convinced that he's dead.
It's sad. Remy once thought he knew his family SO well. He's always had a stronger sense of home and family than any of them...even his own mother...as well as the Barnes matriarch. (Remy will neither confirm nor deny whether his mother IS the Barnes matriarch.)
Remy should be flattered, that someone's come for him. Even so, she's an Ewing. On one hand, he is at least half-flattered, that she's here for him. On the other, he can't help but feel like he's dishonoring his own family, by choosing to adore an Ewing...