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Diplomacy and Events / Re: An Offer to Noobia
« on: August 29, 2019, 11:00:22 PM »
10:00 hours
Presidential palace
Capital city of Pharse, Noobia
“What do you mean the governor doesn’t have any news yet? It’s already been three days,” exclaimed a fuming president Achebe. Enraged, he looked around his office for something to throw and settled on a half-empty bottle of sparkling water. His secretary was quick enough to duck out of the way.
“Please, Mr president,” pleaded his secretary Robert Pigalle, “You must understand that the governor of Tudu Grace Somieur has her hands full with handling the actual cyclone aftermath.”
“I know that, you idiot,” replied Achebe, “And I know damn well the whole country has seen those satellite images CNN keeps repeating the story at the top of every hour. A story which I told you to bury. What concerns me much more is the impact this journalist’s death will have on our investments, not whether those fishers have a dry bed tonight or not. Get me Grace on the phone! Tell her this is bloody urgent.
“Yes sir, right away.”
“And we need to move our foreign funds to a less hostile location. Someplace like Temora or Zimalia, for example. Gilbert [Anambra, the foreign minister] tells me they don’t ask too many questions over there.”
(OOC: I can only respond to the available information to Achebe or other specific characters. The CNN press article is public knowledge. Your backroom discussions or military planning are not.)
15:00 hours
8 km south of Matudi
Tudu province, Noobia
TNT editor Chikelu Kaodilina had flown to Matudi to attend Latasha's funeral. At the local TNT office, he met up with Adimu Kobo. The two men shared a jeep ride out of the city.
“Police aren't sharing much information. Do you have any clue as to what it means?” asked Chikelu with a grim look on his old face.
“What means, Sir, is something quite disturbing,” replied Adimu. “We know the regime is corrupt. We just don’t know how deep it goes. Latasha and I had talked about possible corruption among the police. Because there are always some bad apples. Not just the usual traffic cops that ask a bribe when you drive around town. But real criminals.”
Chikelu turned his head and looked out of the jeep's window. The road into Matudi was almost deserted. No sign of any police checkpoints. At least he'd save some money by not having to bribe the cops. The suburbs looked completely destroyed. Pools of water mixed with broken branches.
After an hour of driving along the muddy road, they arrived in Latasha's village. The funeral turned out to be a large, confusing, and frightening affair. Large, because the funeral was for a young and beloved local journalist. Confusing, because of infrastructural and logistical problems. And frighting, because the body of Latasha was mostly unrecognisable. Or so he had been told by her relatives. It was a closed-casket funeral.
After the funeral, he hung around in the local village, speaking to the young woman's father. He was old and looked broken. Both emotionally and physically. Chikelu gave him some money. It wasn't much money. But it would have to do.
Presidential palace
Capital city of Pharse, Noobia
“What do you mean the governor doesn’t have any news yet? It’s already been three days,” exclaimed a fuming president Achebe. Enraged, he looked around his office for something to throw and settled on a half-empty bottle of sparkling water. His secretary was quick enough to duck out of the way.
“Please, Mr president,” pleaded his secretary Robert Pigalle, “You must understand that the governor of Tudu Grace Somieur has her hands full with handling the actual cyclone aftermath.”
“I know that, you idiot,” replied Achebe, “And I know damn well the whole country has seen those satellite images CNN keeps repeating the story at the top of every hour. A story which I told you to bury. What concerns me much more is the impact this journalist’s death will have on our investments, not whether those fishers have a dry bed tonight or not. Get me Grace on the phone! Tell her this is bloody urgent.
“Yes sir, right away.”
“And we need to move our foreign funds to a less hostile location. Someplace like Temora or Zimalia, for example. Gilbert [Anambra, the foreign minister] tells me they don’t ask too many questions over there.”
(OOC: I can only respond to the available information to Achebe or other specific characters. The CNN press article is public knowledge. Your backroom discussions or military planning are not.)
15:00 hours
8 km south of Matudi
Tudu province, Noobia
TNT editor Chikelu Kaodilina had flown to Matudi to attend Latasha's funeral. At the local TNT office, he met up with Adimu Kobo. The two men shared a jeep ride out of the city.
“Police aren't sharing much information. Do you have any clue as to what it means?” asked Chikelu with a grim look on his old face.
“What means, Sir, is something quite disturbing,” replied Adimu. “We know the regime is corrupt. We just don’t know how deep it goes. Latasha and I had talked about possible corruption among the police. Because there are always some bad apples. Not just the usual traffic cops that ask a bribe when you drive around town. But real criminals.”
Chikelu turned his head and looked out of the jeep's window. The road into Matudi was almost deserted. No sign of any police checkpoints. At least he'd save some money by not having to bribe the cops. The suburbs looked completely destroyed. Pools of water mixed with broken branches.
After an hour of driving along the muddy road, they arrived in Latasha's village. The funeral turned out to be a large, confusing, and frightening affair. Large, because the funeral was for a young and beloved local journalist. Confusing, because of infrastructural and logistical problems. And frighting, because the body of Latasha was mostly unrecognisable. Or so he had been told by her relatives. It was a closed-casket funeral.
After the funeral, he hung around in the local village, speaking to the young woman's father. He was old and looked broken. Both emotionally and physically. Chikelu gave him some money. It wasn't much money. But it would have to do.