June, 2199: Before the storm...
Election day had been kind to Gaston Marnette, who emerged as the new Continental Minister for Europe. After years of working as France's representative in the European Coalition, he had finally worked his way to the top, replacing the thrice-elected Stanislav Komorowski.
Emerging from his house to a roaring crowd held back by barriers of barely visible light, while members of the press shoved microphones and cameras into his face, Gaston smiled and answered their questions in the usual manner of a politician. He was grateful to the people for electing him, particularly given his genetic disadvantages, and had nothing but empty words of praise for his defeated opponent.
Finally wading through the media and entering the awaiting skycraft, the newly elected minister was ferried into the air, speeding towards his new office. Feeling content, the man reflected on exactly what his appointment meant. He was a rarity among politicians, one who was raised by a poor family, the son of a freelance asteroid miner. His parents couldn't afford to give their child any genetic improvements, being barely able to afford the Basic model, but Marnette managed to thrive in politics regardless. Many claimed that his appointment was a sign that public opinion was starting to turn against Premiums, with the majority Basic population resenting the intrinsic advantages of their more expensive counterparts.
"Sir," the driver turned his head slightly, smiling at his employer as he motioned to the window. The Continental Minister's grin grew ever wider as he took in the beautiful sight.
The floating structure was still within the Earth's atmosphere, but orbited around the planet regardless, a symbol of the international nature of the United Coalition. It was home to the Ministers who ruled the planet, in addition to being the place where National Representatives would go to plead their respective causes. Gaston had been to the House many times before, but it felt so different now that he was heading towards it as a member of the inner circle, as one of the seven most powerful and influential people on the planet. The next Coalition Council would be a very different experience indeed.
"Welcome, Minister Marnette," a man clad in military gear welcomed him as the vehicle touched down, a sobering reminder that there was still a war raging on against the radical Resurgents.
"Please, call me Gaston," the minister flashed that famous smile as he followed the soldier through several security checkpoints, completing various scans and identity checks as he did so. These people didn't seem nearly as eager to see him as those outside his home, the French masses who were eager for change. In truth, very little had changed over the decades since Integration, many were expecting Marnette to simply follow the trend of his predecessors. It was strange, but of all the men he had known to go into office, no matter how generous or well-intentioned they were, all of them seemed to immediately become no better than their predecessor. The Frenchman was eager to buck the trend.
"This is where I leave you... Gaston," the soldier smiled, before sobering his expression. "The other CMs want to meet with you."
"So it begins. Wish me luck."
The door closed with a mighty thud behind him, as Marnette struggled to see through the darkness. He found himself in the Inner Chamber, a room that no-one but a minister could enter. It was massive, dark and deathly quiet. His own footsteps were the only sign of life.
"Hello?"
"Hi there!"
"... Komorowski?" Gaston stammered, as the man he had supposedly replaced stepped through the veil of darkness. "What are you doing here? You're not the Minister anymore."
"Why, I'm here to welcome you to your new post!" Stanislav grinned, his Polish accent conspicuously absent, replaced by a vague twang of American. "Not to mention, give you a few pointers. Lesson number one..."
"Ack--!" The new Minister tried to scream, as he felt something pierce the top of his skull and slide into his brain.
"Watch your back," the Pole winked, as he reached up and jammed a spike into his own head. Light filled the room as a mighty generator above them whirred into motion, its spiky tendrils trapped in each politician's cranium. Electricity flowed from each brain and both of them became limp, as their neural activity was drained into the machine. Then, with a final flash, a bolt of energy surged into the Frenchman's mind and he jerked back to life.
"Nothing personal, Marnette," Gaston's mouth spoke as he climbed to his feet and wrenched the spike out, now speaking in the strange accent of the previous European Minister. He stepped over the lifeless body of Komorowski and made his way back towards the doors. "You just gotta love the democratic process, huh?" he chuckled, before stopping to itch at his chest, frustration clear on his face. "Ugh, a Basic! Been a long time since I was a damn Basic... This'll take some getting used to."
"How'd it go, Gaston?" the soldier who had acted as the Minister's guide was there to welcome him as he left the chamber. He received a scowl in reply.
"That's Minister Marnette to you."
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While the dwelling place of the Coalition floated across the sky, rotating slowly around the Earth, the hidden stronghold of the Resurgency rotated within it. Buried deep within the planet's crust, the heat-resistant fortress sat atop the mantle itself, and within that box sat the leader of the movement himself: Andrik Drakov.
"Quit yammerin' and listen up!" He bellowed, silencing the crowd of rebels assembled before him. A large chunk of the movement had been gathered at headquarters, all of them scattered haphazardly around the common area. Drakov himself was not standing above any of them, rather he was perched on a box at the front of the room, surrounded by his lieutenants. While Rook, the rogue runtkiller and his adopted son, was conspicuously absent, Andrik was flanked by the amphibious mutant Denver Hawkins instead.
"Now y'all know I ain't one fer words. Rather be rammin' my boot up some Coalition ass than lookin' at you ugly bastards," this apparently amused many of the rebeals, so he paused to allow the laughter to die down. "But here's the thing. I'm near enough done fightin' this damned war. Can't stomach the idea of lettin' the year twenty-two-hundred roll along by when those fuggers in their floatin' palace're still breathin'. Y'all with me?" The room responded with several roars of agreements.
"Well then, here's a promise to all of y'all. We're gonna lie low for a while, gather our strength an' build some bigass guns. An' then, we're gonna let all hell loose, see this war over an' done with. Cause I'll be damned if I'm gonna see in the next century under the gorram Coalition!"
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It is 2199.
The Gene Wars have been raging for over fifteen years.
Soon, the war will be over, and one side will be dust in the wind.
Both sides can see a storm brewing on the horizon.
For now, it is the calm before the storm.
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(See the Gene Wars OOC for more information)
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