(OOC: Gah? Lag? Gah?) Boston, Massachusetts York looked at the pile of messages on his desk. This really was annoying. But, then again, there had been bombings throughout the major cities recently. He understood why security was so heightened. He himself was already thinking of ways to improve security. He had heard Herring was working on remote sound recording devices... He would have to look into that. But back to more important matters. To the Neo-Seleucid Empire. From the Offices of Jack York, Supreme Commander of the Confederated Counties of Massachusetts We are delighted at the news that yet another stable government has survived the Great Disaster. We would enjoy an exchange of ambassadors and a mutual recognition of national sovereignty. To the government in Greece From the Offices of Jack York, Supreme Commander of the Confederated Counties of Massachusetts We are delighted at the news that yet another stable government has survived the Great Disaster. We would enjoy an exchange of ambassadors and a mutual recognition of national sovereignty. York put down his pen. He thought for a moment. There was still the matter of the North American Territory Conference... He was sure that the Republic of California would graciously decide to enter without hesitation. But Wisconsin... Wisconsin... He figured that it was only appropriate to invite them. They were a sovereign government, after all. He had recognized them as such. To the Republic of California and the government in Wisconsin From the Offices of Jack York, Supreme Commander of the Confederated Counties of Massachusetts We wish to arrange a conference in order to determine, peacefully, which areas of the former United States, Canada, and possibly Mexico will be administered by which government. We believe that such a conference is necessary in order to ensure peace and prosperity between our nations, rather than pointless war. We would hope to see in this conference and equal amount of land and population divided up between each nation, so that we may all administer as many people as each other, in the ways that we all see fit. We would suggest the conference take place in a country which is neutral in these affairs, so that their diplomats might help to mediate the agreements. Possibly South Africa? We look forward to hearing from you. He called in his radioman, and handed the messages to him. He once again stood up and looked out the window. He was sure that those protesters never left their spots. Every time he looked out that window, they were there, protesting the martial law. Did they still not understand? Duncan's forces had all been but pushed out of the cities, and reclamation of rural lands was starting. Until that time when all the lands of the Confederacy were secure from the insurrection, who knew what might happen? As if on cue, something did happen. York thought he heard the gunshot. He was not sure. All he really noticed was that there was a bullet lodged in the right side of his chest, and he was bleeding. Wait. He had been shot? Huh. He fell backwards onto his desk, as his office staff rushed in to see what happened. He heard someone shout for a medic, heard someone else shout something about catching the bastard that did this... And then... All was black. ----------------------------- Nondescript farm house, countryside of Massachusetts Michael Duncan was angry. He was very, very angry. God damned York had survived. He had SURVIVED. That assassin he had hired had claimed to be "the best shot 'round". Then why the hell was York alive? WHY?! Sure, York was in a critical state. He might still die. The bullet had entered his lung, after all. Surgery was still being performed on him. But he could still live. Duncan slammed his fist on the desk of his make-shift headquarters. Best shot 'round his ass. I mean, he was a BUSINESS MAN, for the love of Christ. What kind of business man was a good shot? The would-be assassin had been caught, anyways. An over-zealous private unloaded his Garand into him when they did catch him. Duncan doubted he would get anything more than a slap on the wrist for that. It was not as if the assassin could give any information they did not already know. Duncan had ordered the assassination. Anyone who was not completely retarded could see that. But York was alive. God damnit, YORK WAS ALIVE. He slammed down again. Duncan was getting ready to go to Boston himself, rush into that hospital, and kill York himself. After all, if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. He sighed. He knew he could not do that. His face was plastered on Wanted posters all over every major city in the Confederacy. He doubted he could get within ten miles of Boston, with all the military patrols being sent out. He figured he might try a bomb next. Maybe a suicide bomber? There were some people who supported him enough who might try that. He sighed again. After this, he doubted York would even ever go out in public. Security would definitely be heightened to extreme levels. He doubted anyone but his closest advisory would be able to get within fifty feet of York, and even then it would take a lot of coercing to get closer. He was considering a group of assassins when one of his captains came in, standing at attention, waiting to be noticed. "Yes?" Duncan asked, trying his hardest not to burst out at the captain. It was not his captain's fault that York was alive, after all. "A message from the Wisconsinites, sir." He dropped the paper on Duncan's desk. Duncan waved him out. What could the Wisconsinites want from him? Wait... They were offering... Support? He laughed. He laughed harder than he had ever laughed. The Wisconsinites, out of ALL the nations around Massachusetts. The god damned WISCONSINITES were the ones helping him? He could not help but laugh. This was, possibly, one of the strangest twists of fate he had ever heard of. But Duncan was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He would gladly, GLADLY accept their support without any question. It was not as if anyone else was offering. Secret: To the Government in Wisconsin From Michael Duncan My forces and I would gladly accept your suggested asylum and support. I will, of course, have to make arrangements in order to secure a strong resistance movement in the Confederacy before I leave for the safety of your borders. I suspect that I, along with my top captains and lieutenants, may be able to reach your borders within a month or so. I thank you whole-heartedly for your support, and may God keep you and your countrymen safe. End Secret Duncan had trouble from laughing more. He was concerned that some of his men might think him insane. But it was the WISCONSINITES. He chuckled a little. "May god keep you and your countrymen safe." God? Ha! He was an atheist, through and through. Of course, not that many people knew that. So not that many people would be able to tell the Wisconsinites that. He was sure he could put on a show of being a devout Christian... He was sure that the family he had commandeered this farmhouse from were the religious type... He would have to see if there were any Bibles he could study up on... (OOC: BLEGH! That attempted assassination scene could have gone a LOT better.)