Chapter 17: The Ambition of Men
White House, the United States of America
The atmosphere in the cabinet meeting room was tense, with murmurs and whispers lingering in the air. President Dirrel B. Johnson glanced around the room, taking in the serious expressions and furrowed brows of his trusted advisors. Defense Secretary James T. Conway presented a concerning report, highlighting the Russian Empire's aggressive rearmament efforts.
"The Russian, Mr. President, is serious about their rearmament," Secretary Conway emphasized, projecting satellite images onto the large screen at the front of the room. The images showed numerous storage bases in strategic locations, filled with an array of military vehicles, including both outdated relics and state-of-the-art weaponry.
President Johnson's eyes narrowed as he examined the satellite pictures. The sheer magnitude of the Russian military buildup was staggering. Columns of armored vehicles were being loaded onto massive, nuclear-powered trains, ready to be transported to refurbishment centers in Manchuria and Malorussia.
"I must say, those Russians are certainly putting on quite a show," commented the Speaker of the House, a note of sarcasm lacing his tone. "They seem to take pride in their ability to hoard outdated equipment and modernize it, don't they?"
President Johnson took a deep breath, attempting to maintain his composure. He recalled the security briefings he had received about Russia. They were known for keeping vast reserves of war material, spanning from the ancient relics of World War III to cutting-edge military technology.
"You're right, Mr. Speaker," President Johnson replied, his voice calm but tinged with concern. "The Russian Empire and their allies in the Konstantinopol Treaty Organization have never been ones to throw anything away. They seem to have amassed an unimaginable amount of weaponry, stored in the forests of Siberia and the steppes of Central Asia."
The Speaker of the House scoffed dismissively. "Size isn't everything. They might have a horde of tanks, but half of them are probably obsolete relics from the Third World War. They can't compare to our modern, state-of-the-art military might."
The Secretary of Defense, bristling at the Speaker's condescension, retorted sharply, "You underestimate them at your peril. The Russian Empire has a history of adapting and upgrading their military assets. These storage bases we see might hold outdated tanks, but they also house formidable modern weaponry. They have even started deploying cutting-edge technology like the T-12 and T-15 nuclear-powered super-heavy railgun tanks; BMP-6 autonomous IFVs and BTR-150 self-driving APCs."
Secretary of the Navy Michael C. Hagee chimed in, adding to the growing unease in the room. "Their navy is equally formidable, Mr. President. Russia has the biggest fleet in the world, as their shipyards have been operating at wartime levels for decades. It's astonishing how they've managed to reactivate their mothballed fleets, bringing back tens of thousands of old vessels, including hundreds of aircraft carriers, arsenal ships, and railgun battleships."
"They're gearing up for something big," remarked Secretary of State Alisa R. Grant. "Their actions in Falmart and the rearming efforts speak volumes about their intentions. They clearly see an opportunity in this new world, and they won't hesitate to seize it."
The magnitude of Russia's military might was difficult to ignore. President Johnson leaned back in his chair, considering the implications of the situation. He recalled the security briefings he had received on Russia's capabilities, understanding that they had always been prepared for the worst. "Nevertheless, Falmart represents a tremendous opportunity for our nation. Its resources, technological advancements, and the potential for exploration are invaluable. We must secure our own interests in this new world."
As the discussion shifted towards diplomatic efforts, Secretary of State Alisa R. Grant provided an update on Ambassador Michael F. Kleine's negotiations with the Islamic State of Indonesia. "Ambassador Kleine has been tirelessly working to convince the Indonesian leadership to grant us access to their portal. However, Supreme Leader Yahya Sinwar remains stubborn. He is demanding the immediate lifting of sanctions against Indonesia and military assistance, including nuclear technology."
Vice President William M. Scott raised an eyebrow of concern. "We must tread carefully here. Supporting a xenophobic regime such as the Islamic State of Indonesia with nuclear technology could have dire consequences. We need to consider the long-term implications and potential risks associated with such a decision."
President Johnson leaned back in his chair, a faint smile crossing his face. "Gentlemen, I understand your concerns, but we cannot let this opportunity slip through our fingers. Falmart holds the promise of tremendous advancements and dominance in various fields. Let me be clear: we must emerge as the paramount power in this new world."
The room fell into a momentary silence as the weight of the President's words sank in. It was no secret that President Johnson had a tendency towards narcissism, always craving the spotlight and a legacy that would be remembered for ages to come. His ambition was matched only by his desire to secure America's interests. However, not everyone was convinced that the path he was advocating for was the right one.
Secretary Conway cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Mr. President, while I understand the allure of Falmart and its potential benefits, we must also consider the fallout from supporting a regime like Indonesia. Their track record regarding human rights and their xenophobic policies raise significant concerns. We should prioritize a more measured and cautious approach."
President Johnson's smile faded slightly, replaced with a furrowed brow. "James, I hear your concerns, but we cannot afford to miss out on this opportunity. We must negotiate with Indonesia, find common ground, and secure our access to their portal. The consequences of inaction could be far greater."
Vice President Scott chimed in, his voice filled with caution. "Mr. President, I believe we should explore alternative options before committing to nuclear assistance for Indonesia. Perhaps we could seek alliances and collaborate with other world powers to achieve our objectives, while mitigating the risks associated with supporting a regime with a questionable agenda."
President Johnson, however, waved off these concerns with an air of reckless confidence. "We are the United States of America. Our power is unmatched, and we must take advantage of every opportunity presented to us," he declared, his narcissism shining through his words. "We will negotiate with the Islamic State of Indonesia on our terms, leveraging our unique position. They need us as much as we need them."
The room fell into a tense silence, with each cabinet member grappling with the weight of the decisions before them. Russia's fervent preparations for invading Falmart, the Islamic State of Indonesia's demands for nuclear assistance, and the President's unwavering ambition collectively created a volatile situation with global ramifications. The discussions continued late into the night, with each member of the cabinet expressing their concerns and proposing strategies to counter the Russian Empire's aggressive moves. Anti-Russian sentiments ran strong, fueled by the fear of their expanding power and the potential consequences for global stability.
London, the Franco-British Union
General Benjamin Lawrence sat in his office within the bustling city of London, surrounded by piles of paperwork and complaint letters. The room echoed with the clamor of military radios and the occasional distant explosion, serving as a constant reminder of the chaos unfolding just outside the fortified walls.
His aide-de-camp, Lieutenant Colonel Evelyn Sullivan, entered the room, maneuvering carefully around the stacks of papers with an apologetic smile on her face. She handed the general yet another complaint letter, which he begrudgingly accepted.
"Another one, sir," Evelyn said, her tone filled with sympathy. "The locals seem particularly upset about the noise today."
General Lawrence let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Saint George! I would rather be in Falmart fighting monsters bare-handed than sitting here to read these complaint letters. Tell me, Evelyn, how does one silence the rage of an entire city?"
Evelyn bit her lip, considering her words carefully. "Perhaps, sir, we could hold a meeting with the affected residents, give them a chance to voice their concerns. It may not solve everything, but it could help ease tensions."
General Lawrence's gruff expression softened slightly as he considered the suggestion. "You may be onto something, Evelyn. Gather our commanding officers and representatives from the local community. We shall convene a meeting to address their grievances. In the meantime, prepare a statement to be released to the public, assuring them that we are doing everything in our power to minimize disturbances."
As Evelyn left to make the necessary arrangements, the general leaned back in his chair and pondered the predicament they found themselves in. The invasion of Falmart had placed an immense strain on the already tumultuous relationship between the military and civilian populations. London, a financial hub and home to numerous corporations, was not meant for war. The clash between the military's urgent needs and the city's business interests was tearing at the seams of both entities.
Soon enough, the day of the meeting arrived. The spacious conference room in the military headquarters was adorned with maps and tactical plans, contrasting with the polished wooden furniture. General Lawrence had gathered his top officers, along with representatives from the local community, eager to address their concerns.
The room buzzed with tension as discussions grew heated. The military officers, battle-hardened and stoic, clashed with the residents who passionately defended their rights to peace and quiet. Complaints ranged from property damage to economic losses, and the residents demanded immediate compensation for their troubles.
One particularly vocal resident, Ms. Margaret Cunningham, a prominent business owner, stood up and addressed the room, her voice filled with frustration. "General Lawrence, do you have any idea the revenue we have lost due to this invasion? My company, Cunningham Enterprises, has suffered major setbacks! How do you plan to compensate us?"
The general took a deep breath, meeting Ms. Cunningham's gaze with determination. "I understand your concerns, Ms. Cunningham, and believe me, we are doing everything in our power to minimize the impact on businesses and the economy. Our priority, however, is ensuring the safety and security of our nation. In due time, we shall address the financial repercussions."
Another resident, Mr. Thomas Bennett, an elderly gentleman known for his active involvement in community affairs, tried to reason with the general. "Sir, we understand the gravity of the situation, but is there no other way? Could we not relocate the operation to a less densely populated area? We are already stretched thin."
General Lawrence sighed, his voice filled with weariness. "Believe me, Mr. Bennett, I would have preferred to avoid London, but the proximity of the portal necessitated this decision. Relocating now would only further endanger our forces."
"General Lawrence," spoke a representative from a prominent financial institution, his voice clamoring with self-importance. "We understand the severity of the situation, but these monsters have wreaked havoc on our businesses. We have suffered significant financial losses, and the noise and traffic restriction from your military operations is exacerbating the situation."
The general's eyes darted towards the man, a fierce glint in them. "And what would you propose we do? Simply let our country be ravaged by those creatures while you sit behind your desks and count your money?"
"We are not suggesting that, General," replied the representative with a hint of condescension. "But we request appropriate compensation for the damages incurred, as well as a more considerate approach in dealing with the monster attacks."
General Lawrence slammed his hand on the table, his patience wearing thin. "Considerate approach? Are you suggesting we send them an invitation to tea? These creatures are tearing our city apart, and we have a duty to protect our people and our country. Your demands are unwarranted."
A representative from a property development company stood up, his voice trembling with anger. "General Lawrence, we demand immediate compensation for the damage caused to our luxury apartments. Our clients have invested a fortune in these properties, and we will not stand by and watch them crumble due to your negligence."
The general rose from his chair, his voice booming through the room. "Negligence? We are doing everything in our power to fight these monsters and secure the safety of our citizens. If anyone is negligent, it is you, for putting profits before the well-being of our people."
The tension in the room reached its peak, and General Lawrence took a deep breath, struggling to regain his composure. "Let me make this clear," he said, his voice steely. "Any attempts to hinder or sabotage our operations will be seen as treason against the nation. We are at war, and I will not tolerate any further obstruction."
The room fell silent as the weight of the situation settled upon its occupants. The meeting had achieved little consensus, but at least grievances were aired and concerns acknowledged. General Lawrence realized the need for a delicate balance between military operations and civilian well-being. As the heated discussions gradually subsided, the general stood up, his weariness temporarily replaced by resolve.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we may not have found a perfect solution today, but we are committed to working together to mitigate the impact. We will establish a compensation fund for affected businesses and residences, and we will strive to improve our communication efforts. This battle is not just ours; it belongs to all of us."
Xinjiang, the Greater Russian Empire
Deep beneath the remote Xinjiang region of the Greater Russian Empire, a secret facility known as Unit 731 housed the darkest of secrets. The once barren landscape had been transformed into a clandestine laboratory of macabre experiments. Within its cold and foreboding walls, grotesque experiments were being conducted on the alien creatures that emerged from the portals to Falmart. Here, Surgeon General Kaito Petrovich commanded his twisted domain, driven by a fanatical loyalty to the Tsar and an insatiable thirst for power.
The dissonant hum of machinery echoed through the sterile corridors as Petrovich made his way to the laboratory. Dressed in a blood-stained apron with manic eyes gleaming with excitement, he exuded a chilling air of confidence. His reputation preceded him, whispered among the fearful scientists and shunned by those who dared to oppose his methods. Petrovich, driven by his thirst for knowledge, orchestrated a series of experiments to push the boundaries of these creatures' endurance. The team subjected the captured beings to disease injections, extreme dehydration, hypobaric chamber testing, and amputation, only to witness limbs grow back within a matter of hours. Petrovich's mind teemed with the possibilities that lay within his reach. He believed that by subjegating the creatures of Falmart to his merciless experimentation, he could unlock their secrets and strengthen the might of the Russian Empire.
"Another day of delightful discoveries awaits us, my loyal comrades," Petrovich declared, his voice filled with an unsettling mix of enthusiasm and ruthlessness as he addressed his subordinates. "Today, we shall unravel the secrets of these resilient creatures that have managed to defy our conventional understanding of life and death."
His thoughts were interrupted as one of his subordinates approached him, saluting briskly. "General Petrovich, we have captured a new specimen from Falmart," the subordinate announced with a mixture of hesitation and excitement.
Petrovich's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he responded with a voice filled with conviction. "Bring me the creature. We must continue our exploration of their biology. The resilience they possess is fascinating. We need to understand their weaknesses as much as their strengths."
The subordinate nodded and led Petrovich down a labyrinthine corridor, where the sounds of pained cries and relentless experiments echoed in the cold darkness. They arrived at a small room, dimly lit and occupied by a fragile-looking figure. The creature, named Lucas, stood before them, its elven features betraying an air of innocence. His fair features were marred by fear and confusion, a stark contrast to the menacing aura emanating from Petrovich. The Surgeon General wielded a scalpel with a mixture of predatory fascination and sadistic pleasure as he prepared to perform another vivisection.
"Lucas," Petrovich began, his tone dripping with perverse curiosity. "How is it that you regenerate at such an astonishing rate? Human physiology pales in comparison to that of your species. Tell me, do you feel pain as we do?"
The boy's wide, frightened eyes met Petrovich's gaze. "Please, I beg you, let me go. I am just a child. I have done nothing to deserve this torment," Lucas pleaded, his voice trembling.
Petrovich chuckled darkly. "Ah, the innocence of youth. You believe that fairness and mercy have a place in this world, do you not?" He circled around the table, his fingers tracing the pulsating wound where the boy's genitals once resided. "You are a fascinating specimen, Lucas. Our experiments on you have brought forth intriguing revelations. Your kind possesses remarkable regenerative capabilities, a marvel that even our most advanced scientists struggle to comprehend."
Lucas winced in pain, his body twitching involuntarily as the wound tried to heal itself. "Please, stop this madness! Our world is already devastated by unholy creatures. Attacking Falmart will only increase their wrath," he pleaded, his voice infused with equal parts fear and desperation.
Petrovich's eyes narrowed, a glimmer of satisfaction dancing within them. "Foolish boy. You know nothing of the world beyond your limited perspective. The Greater Russian Empire has conquered half of the Earth, and Falmart shall bow before our might." His voice grew louder, resonating with fervor. "We shall tame this alien realm, extract its resources, and ensure a glorious future for our nation."
A mixture of horror and defiance filled Lucas' eyes as he found a sliver of courage within him. "You speak of conquest, but have you ever considered the consequences? The destruction, the suffering it will bring to innocent lives?"
Petrovich let out a humorless laugh. "Consequences? In the pursuit of greatness, sacrifices must be made, my dear boy. Our nation thrives on the strength of its will, and those who stand against it shall be crushed beneath our unstoppable advance."
As he prepared to make another incision, Petrovich reveled in the power he held over Lucas, a symbol of the resistance presented by Falmart's denizens. Yet, a small part of his mind wrestled with doubt, a flicker of humanity amidst the darkness consuming his soul. But his unwavering loyalty to the Tsar and his insatiable hunger for supremacy drowned out those fleeting doubts. With each experiment, Petrovich believed he was bringing his nation one step closer to unbridled dominance.
As Petrovich pondered his next move, a message from the Tsar's advisors reached his secure communication device. He hastily tapped the device, listening intently to the words that crackled through the static. "The other superpowers have mobilized their forces," the voice on the other end informed him urgently. "They too seek to conquer Falmart. The balance of power is shifting, General. We must act swiftly and decisively."
A grim smile tugged at the corners of Petrovich's lips. The race for dominance had begun, and he was determined to ensure the Russian Empire emerged victorious. No longer a mere scientist, he saw himself as a conqueror, a harbinger of glory, leading his nation towards a new era of supremacy. "Prepare the troops," Petrovich commanded, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "We will forge a path through Falmart, harnessing the creatures' strengths and turning them into our tools of conquest. The might of the Empire will be unstoppable!"