AN: Credits to Vasilisa, perfect_shade and Readhead for feedback and revisions.

A video that best represents the mood of this chapter: watch?v=Kq5KWLqUewc

1953 May 5th, Parisee, at the Esplanade des Invalides:

Millie took one last glance at the handwritten note from President Degurechaff asking that they meet in front of the Palais Bourbon at around 2pm with a description of what clothing that the woman would be wearing, before ripping up the note into small pieces and dropping them into a sewer drain.

"Wow, Parisee is more crowded than I had ever expected," Millie murmured to her fiance António as they strolled across the wide open lawn of the Esplanade des Invalides. "It's so different from how it all was a decade ago, back when the government was still trying to enforce tight information control, which they continued right up until the Germanians showed up in Parisee. Just incredible… Almost as incredible as how all the residents just… resigned themselves to their fates, both when the Francois Republic first declared war, and when the peace treaty was signed. No confidence at all, nor any real popular interest in politics to be seen."

António raised an incredulous eyebrow before casting a point look out across all of the different political groups ranging across the lawn, passing out leaflets to passersby or listening to half a dozen conflicting speeches, all bound together in a standoff against the police at the far side of the Esplanade. "Unionists, socialists, and militant pro-colonialists... I think I see an equal rights group over there as well. Good thing we brought lots of films, and multiple cameras and film recorders for this. No way one camera would be enough to take it all in."

Millie stopped to take a photo of a lamp post where an anti-OZEV and anti-Degurechaff poster hung in shreds, a defaced pro-OZEV poster peeking out from under its torn successor. And the next lamp post bore a similarly defaced poster announcing an upcoming gay pride parade.

"If this is any sign of what's to come, I'm a tad bit conflicted about staying in Francois Republic to document the inevitable trouble, or just staying away from the entire mess," Millie commented. "It reminds me of what I heard described in interviews with Germanians about the sharp political divides in their country before Chancellor Degurechaff started turning things around."

"Is it me, or does that crowd over there have a mix of Germanian and Frankish people? It seems quite cheerful. I think we should interview them." António pointed at a picnic, and the two of them walked over.

"Millicent Caldwell, I've read about your articles! Help yourself to our food!" One of the picnickers greeted the two and offered them each a wrapped croissant and weisswurst.

"Ah, uh, thank you." Millie blushed as she and António took the two food items. "So, what's the gathering about?"

"Our employer paid for a group vacation."

Millie looked over at the crowd while chewing on the weisswurst. "I wasn't expecting what appears to be a mix of Germanians and Franks."

"Money from all of the investments going back and forth from the Francois Republic to the rest of OZEV and back all but guaranteed the establishment of intermediary banks and investment services with sufficient knowledge of local regulations and conditions to act as factors for those investments." The picnicker shrugged. "Naturally, developing a pool of such knowledge would require employees from different countries to provide good service on either side of the border."

"And where are you from?" Millie scribbled in her notes while António quietly stepped away in search of another subject to interview.

"Alsace-Lorraine."

"What were your thoughts when Alsace-Lorraine became officially independent?"

"I no longer have to worry about fleeing my home because of yet another war." The picnicker's eyes rolled. "My grandparents had to flee from their home. Then my parents. I think you get the idea."

Millie suddenly heard loud chants off in the distance. The language sounded familiar, but not quite the same as António's native tongue.

"Are those from South America? This many?" António narrowed his eyes as he looked at the approaching crowd. "I'm going to go over there and meet with them. I'll be back."

Millie went about interviewing the rest of the picnickers and was just wrapping up when António came running back.

"What's the matter dear?" Millie looked with surprise at António's concerned looking face.

"Both Brasilia and New Granada heavily subsidized travel for the sports fans," António panted out, "to 'support' their teams. There have already been fights between the two countries' fans as soon as they disembarked from their ships."

"How many of them are coming to Parisee?"

"We'll need to call up all of the Frankish ports to ask how many ships from Brasilia and New Granada have arrived, but I suspect the number of fans could be in the several thousands. Possibly even more."

"I'm afraid of what it would look like when the stadiums run out of seating." Millie nervously nibbled her croissant as the two of them began walking towards the Palais Bourbon.

António sighed. "Inside the stadiums or on the streets, it doesn't matter because both will be a war zone between the two groups of fans. Hopefully the Frankish law enforcement is ready for the trouble. I can't imagine the chaos if one of the South American countries' bids to host both football and aerial lacrosse games were accepted, even if they could financially afford such an extravaganza."

'Perhaps the Francois Republic had bitten off more than they could chew? Hosting an overseas rivalry on top of their already ongoing deep political divides… It's quite risky,' Millie thought to herself as they walked along the Seine river.

As they approached the Palais Bourbon, Millie noticed a particular blonde woman who oddly resembled Degurechaff and seemed to be staring at the bridge in front of the building. There were some facial and hair features that were different, but the clothing matched the note's description.

'Is that?... Could it be her? Oh well, the worst that could happen is that I awkwardly apologize for misidentifying the person and have an interview with another Parisee resident or a tourist.'

Millie looked around to ensure no one else was nearby, walked up to the woman and cleared her throat. "Good afternoon President Degurechaff."

The woman spun around with a weary smile. "It is good to see you again Milly. Come now, is that how you're introducing me to your husband?" The single most powerful political figure in the world waved a chiding finger at Millie, who felt for a moment as if she'd been forcibly returned to her school days. "It's Tanya, I told you. Especially when I'm trying to keep out of general sight. Now, how are things going for you in this lovely city?"

"Getting a feel of the opinions from the sports event attendees and local residents. And you?" Millie smiled as António quickly greeted Tanya before stepping aside.

"Also getting a feel of the opinions from the sports event attendees and local residents before making my visit official and meeting a bunch of politicians." Tanya shrugged her shoulders. "It's very easy for a politician to lose touch with how people are actually feeling. They have to occasionally put down the reports and go touch the grass to understand what is happening outside of their office. I was curious to see in person what the Frankish society looked like, more than a decade after lying down on a tank, right here."

"What are your thoughts?"

Tanya looked at the bridge across the Seine. "It's like walking on eggshells. I don't think I've ever seen Parisee in such disorderly shambles. And that's coming from someone who was part of the invasion forces that occupied Parisee, twice! I'd hate to be in Prime Minister Gassier's shoes."

"Uh, earlier today, he resigned." António tugged on his shirt collar while Tanya blinked rapidly for a moment.

"Well that explains the lukewarm response I got when we requested an official visit to the stadiums in Parisee. Why would he resign? I didn't think those arrests of retired Frankish navy personnel on suspicion of colluding with the CSR were that politically damaging?" Tanya raised an eyebrow.

"Wait, what? When did those arrests happen?!" António blurted.

"I am so confused." Millie put a hand on her forehead. "I thought he resigned because after he proposed three different solutions to the ongoing insurgency wars, the National Assembly rejected all of them. First one was a military funding increase and conscription bill to try to win the wars with overwhelming force, the second one was to establish mechanisms to allow less important colonies to hold independence referendums in order to concentrate forces in the remaining colonies, and the third one was to allow all colonies to hold independence referendums. Which left him stuck, unable to resolve the insurgency problems."

"Really?" António frowned. "I heard that he resigned because there was a leaked recording of him insulting political parties from both sides in a private conversation, prompting the far left and far right parties to discuss holding a vote of no confidence against him."

"No, no," interjected a passing Pariseean woman, juggling a paper bag filled with baguettes. "Those were just excuses. The real reason he resigned was that he was blocked from using military force to crackdown on the labor strikes."

"Idiot! Don't tell me you believe the garbage those lying socialist rags would have you believe!" interjected someone else. His colleagues nodded in firm agreement. "If you'd take a mere moment to look beyond the propaganda, you'd know that he was too weak willed to quickly and decisively teach the Aegyptians a lesson over stealing the Suez Canal!"

"Hear hear!"

"Lies, all lies!"

"Say that again and I'll bust your teeth in!"

"What a bunch of thugs! Typically of Gassier's braindead minions!"

Tanya subtly drifted away from the gathering crowd and briskly walked across the bridge to get to the other side of the Seine river. As more and more passers-by approached and joined in the increasingly loud and vigorous street debate, the two reporters also decided to follow Tanya to the other side.

"Things are really heating up politically," Millie observed the police officers run past them and towards the growing ruckus. "It's happening all over the city. At least this one hasn't degenerated into a street brawl. Yet."

"Believe me, you're not the only one to be astonished at what is going on in Parisee." Tanya sighed.

1953 May 8th, Parisee:

Andrey Vavilova double checked his catering staff member uniform before rounding a corner and seeing a clearly overweight security guard. The objective was straightforward. Poison two VIPs and make it look like the Frankish government had an involvement in it.

"Identification please." the guard gruffed.

Vavilova and his partner Mikhail Guryev handed over their identity cards to the guard, who then quickly skimmed through the lists.

"I don't see you two in the lists" The guard looked up from the paper.

'This is annoying, our commissar told us everything was taken care of. Time to improvise.'

"There must be a misunderstanding, maybe the list wasn't updated in time?" Vavilova pleaded.

"I'm not letting you two in until I get updated lists." The guard tossed them back their cards. "Tell your boss that you two are taking the day off for their incompetence, and contact your labor union if they refuse to pay you. You two aren't the only ones who discovered they weren't on the list, and I'm tired of arguing."

Vavilova slid an SCE identification card and a small gold bar to the guard, whose eyes widened.

"Cause no trouble." The guard pocked the gold, slid the card back and waved them on.

After about half an hour of blending in and helping the rest of the catering staff with their work while observing the area, Vavilova finally had the opportunity to push the cart of coffee pots to deliver to the public and private sections of the luxury box. Guryev was strangely nowhere to be found though.

Vavilov glanced around and discreetly opened a packet of what looked like sugar, but was actually powdered poison. Poison intended for that evil woman and her disgusting concubine. He'd seen them come in and out of the area but earlier couldn't quite pinpoint where they were choosing to sit, so now he was hoping that the two had finally found a location to settle down for the start of the match.

'Now all I need to do is find those two degenerates and directly serve coffee to them…'

Vavilova pushed the cart along to first check the private luxury box sections, but when he was approaching the Granadian private section, he saw the same fat security guard, this time with plainclothes people with him. He looked behind and saw more security guards.

"We just need to chat for a moment." The fat guard smiled.

Meanwhile at the public section of the luxury box…

The original itinerary planned by the Frankish government for all of the visiting government dignitaries went out the window after Prime Minister Gassier's deputy also resigned. Frankly, I would have also resigned in disgust with the inability to resolve the insurgency problems for good from those two bills being voted down and there were simply no alternatives that could please the clashing Frankish legislators.

I leaned back in the leather chair with Visha sitting next to me and looked out at the window as the two teams on the field started their game, then at my watch. "They're a bit behind schedule with the start of the match."

"While you were in the bathroom, I overheard conversations about both teams' buses being delayed from riots between fans." Visha replied after finishing chewing on a piece of cake.

"That explains why they have fences to partition the fans away from each other in the stadium. It's amazing and terrifying what nationalism can drive crowds of people to do, and how the politicians in Brasilia and New Granada could exploit those feelings for their own use." I sighed before taking a sip of coffee.

I then heard someone walk up to the side of us, and I turned my head.

I wonder if I should have reserved my own private viewing spaces to enjoy the game in peace instead of sharing the luxury box with others.

"Foster Dullas." The man smiled while extending his hand out for a handshake. Off in the distance, I could see our two secretaries standing by, with one of them giving me the thumbs up. I silently spun up a recording spell.

"Unified States ambassador?" I took his offer. "Take a seat. Where's your president?"

I'm thankful Elya provided notes on all of the foreign dignitaries that were originally invited by the Francois Republic, and that I had spent the past few days studying them. How she got the list, that was not my concern.

Dullas nodded and as he took his seat, he looked ahead at the window. "President Taft is busy with domestic matters, and he isn't exactly a fan of soccer. Anyways, it's a shame that New Granada and Brasilia are teetering at the edge of war."

"Did you know ahead of time about the hordes of fans from both countries?" I took another sip of coffee, and then almost spat it out when a Brasilian player nailed a ball into the corner of the goal box with a long distance shot. The thunderous noises from the fans echoed through the glass and into the stadium's luxury box.

"It exceeded my estimates. I wasn't expecting the two countries to go that far with sending so many 'team supporters' to the Francois Republic." Dullas rubbed his chin. "I am curious if you are backing a side in the conflict though."

I could sense that Visha immediately put up a privacy spell. She took a quick look around before giving us a slight nod.

Ah, now my memory of him in those notes is jogged. He was previously a member of the Vaccaro Fruit Company's board of directors around the time when the blotched coup in New Granada kicked off. Multiple other senior US officials, including their secretary of state, also had ties with the company. Or their direct relatives and friends had ties with the company. And I recall Dertinge reported a few months ago that New Granada's government turned a blind eye to Vaccaro Fruit Company's shooting of strikers while Brasilia nationalized the company's assets.

I got up from my chair to take a closer look at the field and saw an argument break out between the referees and the two teams' players, which was soon stopped with one of the referees flashing a yellow card at a visibly angry player. "Oh my, already a yellow card this soon, along with the super early goal."

I looked back at Dullas. "If either or both countries have the money and aren't affiliated with communists, then I'm indifferent."

"And what about the oil companies from Daneland and Dacia that have business in South America?"

"It would be unfortunate if they were negatively impacted by a war. But I'm not interested in intervening in South America when I have enough problems on my hands with the Rus and Chinese. Besides, it's bad practice to constantly use military force to bailout businesses' risky bets that went sour. It invites perverse incentives."

"Interesting perspective of trying to keep government and business separate." Dullas nodded. "I would agree that war is bad for business. But if the war ends quickly, it would be back to business as usual. For the winning side."

"Deciding a winner… I thought the Unified States was such a huge fan of preaching neutrality and isolationism?"

"You know us." Dullas chuckled. "We go for whatever is good for business."

"What are you proposing?" I sighed. It was evidently clear the Americans weren't going to simply lightly press on the scale to tip the balance, and instead they were going to crush the entire scale.

"We'll allow your arms sales and other dealings with New Granada. You will have our guarantee that they will pay you for the military and industrial assistance even if they don't have the money, such as agricultural goods, minerals, oil and other resources. If they try to stiff you, we will apply pressure on them. In return, I request a discounted deal for nuclear bomb technology sharing."

That's one hell of a conflict of interest there. It makes perfect business sense for him and his former employer, which I suspect he would get a cushy job at the Vaccaro Fruit Company if he succeeds with his plotting. And to be honest if I was in his same position, I might have considered doing something similar. However, from the perspective of national strategic planning of leveraging an entire nation for a business side deal, that's a disaster. And what is up with his nuclear proposal?

I suppressed a smirk. But that problem is President Taft's problem. He's the one who appointed Dullas and others who had side businesses with the fruit company, and signed off on plans that work in favor of Dullas. All I can do is ensure that I can use his scheme for my advantage.

"That seems convoluted." I gave him a skeptical look. "I would much prefer direct payments for supporting New Granada and providing nuclear bomb assistance to the Unified States. Less ways for things to go wrong."

"The reason I ask for this is because Congress doesn't have the appetite to keep directly throwing money at your country to buy technology assistance, and would also be hesitant to subsidize New Granada's military budget. The payments you are receiving for the nuclear material stockpile and reactor construction assistance took a lot of work to get Congress to approve them. But they won't care if it's New Granada that is taking out massive loans from American banks to fund their war, and they would support a 'discounted' nuclear bomb technology deal. President Taft would also be able to spin the discounted deal as a major political win. If New Granada tries to default on those loans without adequate substitute compensation, then Congress will act."

It's not the most ethical business deal, but I'm getting what I need and all I'm doing is giving what the Americans would eventually get on their own even if I refused to share any nuclear information with them.

"I just needed to turn my military's obsolete inventory into money for new things so I can keep the pressure on the communists." I stretched my shoulders nonchalantly. "Whatever happens to that inventory after they are sold, I'm not concerned as long as they don't get used against us, or fall into the communist hands. But, what should we do if Brasilia turns to the communists out of desperation?"

Dullas cleared his throat. "If Brasilia turns to the communists for help, that would make my job easier of convincing Congress to support New Granada which would also indirectly benefit you from increased arms business."

"Uh, Tanya," Visha had a concerned tone in her voice. "The Brasilian team scored another goal, and I think I see a few New Grandian fans ripping seats out to throw at the field."

Elsewhere in the stadium area, in a basement and far away from everyone else:

Vavilova mentally cursed in his head when he saw a bloodied Guryev was chained to the chair. And he didn't have much time, as he earlier saw the coffee cart being pushed away by another catering staff member, which meant it was only a matter of time before random people drank the poisoned coffee.

"What is this madness, we're the SCE!" Vavilova jabbed his finger at the fat guard.

One of the plainclothes men spoke up. "Who's your boss?"

'I need to buy time. Just need to bluff a bit with some random SCE agent we heard about before.'

"Philippe Thyaud" Vavilova replied, but he soon realized he may have inadvertently picked the wrong name when the plainclothes men looked at each other, then two of them withdrew their guns and pointed at him and Guryev.

"You're with La Main Bleue! Who's your assassination target?!" one of the men shouted at an incredibly confused Vavilova, while Guryev's face showed similar confusion.

'The Blue Hand, what?!'

Suddenly a burst of gunfire from the security guards ripped through the plainclothes men. Vavilova and Guryev turned their heads in complete shock at the guards.

The fat guard chucked as one of the guards handed him a tray of the bloodied medical instruments that were used on Guryev and another guard grabbed a second chair and chains to go along with it. "I know who works for Philippe Thyaud, and you're not them. But thank you for making those dead men reveal that they were after us and our colleagues. That confirms you're not with us, nor with them. And we know you are definitely not affiliated with the SCE. This interview will be… exciting."

About three hours later:

This was probably the longest sports match I'd ever had to sit through. Then again, it kept getting interrupted with the chaos among the fans, especially when it was increasingly evident which team was going to decisively win. The sports commentators sure had fun analyzing the three way battles between Brasilian fans, Granadian fans and the Frankish riot police. I got up from my chair to grab some post-game-riot refreshments, when someone rapidly approached me.

"Can I help you with something?" I raised an eyebrow, ready to cycle up a combat spell in the event that the man had some bold plans for me.

"Yes, on behalf of my country," the man sighed.

The two secretaries that had previously kept their distance from us burst in and hastily stood next to us. "Ahem, Madame President, may I introduce Senor Carlos Arellano," one of them said formally. "He previously met with Minister Dertinge regarding the New Granada matter."

He gave a graceful bow and I nodded in acknowledgement. "I offer my sympathies for what happened to your national team. But why didn't your president come to talk to me in person?"

"Someone poisoned him about three hours ago in his luxury box," one of the secretaries muttered in my ear. "He's now in hospital. They were worried he wouldn't make it, until someone told him of their loss to Brasilia, and then a courier delivered a letter from the Brasilian president that simply stated '7-1'. He attempted to escape from the hospital in sheer rage. The nurses could barely restrain him."

Arellano winced, obviously not wanting that tidbit of information circulated, but nodded in resignation to its veracity. He glanced at my guards. "Can we talk in private?"

I gestured to my subordinates to back off and give us some space. We walked over to a corner and I spun up my privacy spell.

Arellano cleared his throat. "His instruction to me was to request that we accelerate the procurement, training and industrial production plans. Effectively immediately."

"I don't have all of the details as I was letting foreign minister Dertinge handle the deal, but wasn't there some sort of a 'trial period' where you would evaluate each of our equipment, vehicles, aircraft and ships before purchasing them? Or evaluating the feasibility of licensed domestic production? Or negotiating on prices and terms?"

"We don't need that delay anymore. Just have your military and industrial experts come to New Granada to help with the training on the new hardware, modifications of the purchased hardware to operate in our tropical climate, and building our military industrial base." Arellano then handed me a single sheet of paper that summarized what the Granadian president wanted, with the president's signature on the bottom. It was a shaky signature, but I could tell the man was surviving on pure rage and spite when he signed the paper.

"What's the final price? And I'm assuming you're also buying from the Americans?" I blinked at him.

"He said that's a future problem he'll worry about. And yes, we're buying from them as well. We're going to bury the Brasilians"

Wow, Granada is about to go to war with complete disregard to any financial sanity. I haven't seen that sort of craziness since the vicious battle of Arene!

But as long as the Americans assure us that Germania would be paid regardless of the circumstances, I'm not going to say no to a massively lucrative business deal.

I folded up the paper and put it in my pocket. "I will inform my foreign minister and defense minister to submit a proposal to you or your president as soon as possible, whichever is faster."

1953 May 12th, at a park outside of Parisee:

I was enjoying a picnic with Visha as a break from the chaotic football and Parisee street scenes when I saw Elya briskly walk towards us.

"Good afternoon Elya, how are you-" I was cut off when Elya grabbed my cup of coffee and chugged it, then Visha's cup as well. Looking closer at Elya's face, it seemed she didn't have much sleep.

"Elya, what is going on?!" Visha stared in shock as she poured another cup of coffee for Elya, which Elya also grabbed the cup for a third chug.

"Put up a privacy spell, I'm too tired." Elya exhaustedly muttered as she fumbled with multiple notebooks, which both of us obliged.

"Where do I even start? We intercepted communications from rogue SCE agents that discovered two NKVD agents pretending to be SCE agents pretending to be Frankish catering staff to serve poisoned coffee to both of you, but the Rus blotched their plans and poisoned the wrong coffee pot. And they went missing after being taken away by security guards and suspicious plainclothes men."

"The Granadian president…" I stared at my now empty coffee cup. "And he thinks Brasilia poisoned him."

"How did you know the SCE agents were rogue?" Visha nervously nibbled on a tart.

"They were taking orders from outside of their chain of command. Some of their operations included disguising themselves as Aegyptians and Algerians to conduct terror attacks, such as bombs in street garbage bins, or instigating riots. Remember my Rus boyfriend? He mentioned the NKVD had moles in the SCE, and they confirmed that the SCE agents they are going up against have not informed the SCE chain of command, even with the rising body counts."

"Body counts?" Visha put down her tart as Elya flipped a page in her notebook.

"Contacts in the Albish intelligence mentioned that their agents found a room had a pile of lye-soaked corpses in the stadium complex that you two were at. If that room full of bodies was related to the two captured and missing NKVD agents, I can't think of anything that would lead to that room's situation, and there's the question of what is with the other corpses." Elya's left eye twitched, then she buried her face in her hands. "The Frankish law enforcement appears to have put that case on the backburner, supposedly with the political street violence taking priority. And speaking of political violence…"

"Elya, I think you need a vacation…" I was then immediately cut off by her almost knife-handing me, then sheepishly pulling her hands back.

"I… I'm sorry for that outburst. I didn't mean to lash out at you." Elya muttered as she lowered her head. "The whole country is a hotbed, a madhouse. I had to pull agents from lower priority assignments, administrative work and from their vacations to investigate the Frankish mess. I even had to beg Lergen so I could borrow mages from the military and promising mage cadets from the academy and put them through crash course intel agent training to try to maintain all of the operations in the Francois Republic. But the rabbit holes keep getting deeper, and already a few of the BND agents have been wounded or forced to flee to safehouses. It's only a matter of time before I have to plan rescue operations for captured agents, or funeral services. I don't know what to do. You and Visha could have ended up drinking the poisoned coffee, and I only knew about that when the intercepted communications of the rogue SCE agents mentioned that the NKVD agents discovered their poisoning plan had failed."

Perhaps I completely misunderstood Elya. I always thought she had other motives behind her actions. The disappearance of the domestic communists and the ousting of President Paul as cases in point. She certainly could have ruled Germania as a shadow puppet master by finding a puppet to take President Paul's place. But now it's clear that she truly cares about us, it would be stupid of me to run her into the ground if she's going this far to keep us safe in such times of chaos and conspiracy. Employee burnout is a headache for HR in general, and reflects poorly on the manager in charge of the employee. And that manager would be me in this situation.

"Promise that you won't end up being an alcoholic from this." I touched her face to gently tilt her head towards my face. "When all of this sports chaos is over, I need you to take a vacation and be well rested. Maybe hang out with your boyfriend, I don't care."

"Thank you." Elya sniffed.

"Where's Anna? Shouldn't she be able to act on your behalf if you have to step away?" Visha asked.

"Remember the part where I pulled agents from administrative work?..." Elya trailed off.

Meanwhile…

Anna hummed to herself as she went about cleaning the training facility's locker room, when she heard a door open.

"I'm sorry, but I had the cleaning sign posted. Can you read?" Anna lightly scoffed in Frankish while spinning up a stealth recording spell.

"We'll be in and out in a few minutes darling." A man smiled as he walked into the room with a few others behind him, then opened a bag of Frankish bills.

"Perhaps we can visit later at a bar. This should be enough for me to also invite my friends." Anna took off her gloves and pinched the man's face before taking the bag of money. "I'm assuming you're leaving a gift for the Formosan football team, the day before their game against the Albish team?"

"Are you not satisfied with the money?"

"Mmmmh, I'll take a round of free drinks from you at the bar." Anna seductively whispered in the man's ears.

'And while you and your companions are drugged and asleep to await interrogation, I'll be using my contacts to try to trace where all of this money came from. Ah, it's good to be back on the field to directly handle matters instead of shepherding agents around and reading piles of intelligence reports.' Anna thought to herself, but before she could prepare to hide the bag of money in the garbage bin, she heard a commotion from the opposite end of the locker room.

"Drop your bomb, hands in the air!" An Albish voice yelled, immediately followed by an exchange of gunfire and the sounds of more than one person falling hard to the floor. The man pushed Anna to the ground just as a hail of bullets whizzed over her head and struck the man. Anna took the cue to immediately start crawling towards the exit to get away from the chaos.

"Bloody hell it's the CSR!" One of the men yelled in the Albish over the noise of the gunfire and bullets ricocheting off of concrete and metal surfaces.

"Could they also be after the Formosan team?!" Another Albish man barked before throwing a flashbang grenade at the assailants, deafening the entire room with the blast.

By this point, Anna made it to the hallway outside of the locker room and was contemplating if she should continue monitoring and recording the firefight while waiting for BND backup to arrive, or find a safer location.

"We could work out a deal. We plant drugs on the Formosan team and you can find something else to bomb. Or you can proceed with your bomb plan and we plant drugs on another team. We can both pretend we never saw each other." An Albish voice echoed in the room.

Then she heard one of the CSR agents scream in Chinese, "and torture us to death after a false deal like what the Frankish did years ago?! No, we both die here today! No witnesses!"

'There goes my interrogation plans. At least I have the money from them.'

She dove into another room to put another wall between her and the pending doom, while maximizing her shield spell, disregarding any stealth at this point. A second later, a powerful explosion ripped through the locker room and caused the hallway to collapse.

AN:

wiki/John_Foster_Dulles#Guatemala

The same year, Dulles participated in the instigation of a military coup by the Guatemalan army through the CIA by claiming that the democratically elected Guatemalan President Jacobo Árbenz's government and the Guatemalan Revolution were veering toward communism. Dulles had previously represented the United Fruit Company as a lawyer.[38] Thomas Dudley Cabot, former CEO of United Fruit, held the position of Director of International Security Affairs in the State Department. John Moore Cabot, a brother of Thomas Dudley Cabot, was secretary of Inter-American Affairs during much of the coup planning in 1953 and 1954.[39]

wiki/1954_Guatemalan_coup_d#Eisenhower_administration

Several figures in Eisenhower's administration, including Secretary of State John Foster Dulles and his brother CIA Director Allen Dulles, had close ties to the United Fruit Company. The Dulles brothers had been partners of the law firm of Sullivan & Cromwell, and in that capacity had arranged several deals for the UFC. Undersecretary of State Walter Bedell Smith would later become a director of the company, while Eisenhower's personal assistant Ann C. Whitman was the wife of UFC public relations director Edward Whitman. These personal connections meant that the Eisenhower administration tended to conflate the interests of the UFC with that of U.S. national security interests, and made it more willing to overthrow the Guatemalan government.[75][76] The success of the 1953 CIA operation to overthrow the democratically elected Prime Minister of Iran also strengthened Eisenhower's belief in using the agency to effect political change overseas.[71]

France with its 4th republic in the 1950's wasn't exactly stable: watch?v=nbQXCC6O11g

wiki/French_Fourth_Republic#Failure_of_the_new_parliamentary_system

In January 1947, after his election by the National Assembly and the nomination of his ministers, Prime Minister Paul Ramadier called for a vote of confidence in order to verify that the Assembly approved the composition of his Cabinet. This initiated a custom of double election, a vote for the Prime Minister followed by a vote of confidence in the chosen Cabinet, that weakened the Prime Minister's authority over the Cabinet. Cabinets were dismissed with only a plurality (not the absolute majority) of the National Assembly voting against the Cabinet. Consequently, these ministerial crises did not result in the dissolution of Parliament. Thus, as in the Third Republic, this regime was characterized by ministerial instability.

The Fourth Republic was also a victim of the political context. The split of the three-party alliance in spring 1947, the departure of Communist ministers, Gaullist opposition, and the new proportional representation did not create conditions for ministerial stability. Governmental coalitions were composed of an undisciplined patchwork of center-left and center-right parties. Finally, the Fourth Republic was confronted with the collapse of the French colonial empire.

article/when-tubes-were-better-than-transistors/

Way back in 1960, just after ICs were invented but before they became much of a force in the electronics market, the Electron Tube Information Council published a book titled "Tubes and Transistors: A Comparative Study." This 66-page book was a nifty piece of competitive marketing that contrasted tube characteristics and transistor characteristics under the guise of objectivity demanded by an engineering audience. However, it's clear from reading this book that it was written to do a hatchet job on transistors.

The Electron Tube Information Council consisted of:

The Receiving Tube Operations of CBS Electronics

General Electric's Electron Tube Division

RCA's Electron Tube Division

Raytheon's Receiving Tube Division

Sylvania Electric Products' Electronic Tubes Division

Tung-Sol's Electron Tube Division

Westinghouse's Electronic Tube Division

General Electric also had their advertisements to try to convince the public that vacuum tubes were still the future rather than transistors: /TubeTimeUS/status/1095858361126477824

Reference to the 7-1 football match:

wiki/Brazil_v_Germany_(2014_FIFA_World_Cup)

watch?v=aE4BdIP6bvc