The Star-Spangled Expanded Universe of "What Madness Is This?"

Discussion in 'Alternate History Discussion: Before 1900' started by Napoleon53, Dec 13, 2018.

  1. Murica1776 Building an American Tomorrow

    Jun 22, 2016

    The History of the Association for the Advancement of Pinnacle African Cokies (AAPAC)

    Walter Lincoln Burghardt (W.L.B) Stevenson, founder of the AAPAC, in 1915
    The AAPAC was an organization founded in 1914 in Newport, Rhode Island, by a collection of African-American intellectuals, MDP members, businessmen, and AFC pastors, with the intent of ending the Cokie practice of "trusteeship" for former Carolinian slaves. The man credited with actually founding the AAPAC (mainly by pulling together his network of allies) is W.L.B. Stevenson, the Regional Secretary of the Veterans of Patriotic Wars Association in the New England MDP Region, and himself a veteran of the Immolation of Mexico. He founded the organization with the intent of "Retrieving our Pinnacle African brethren from the grasp of their misguided Carolinian masters, that they might help us build the New Jerusalem." Stevenson was motivated to found the organization after going to Jacksonland and seeing for himself the abuses of the Cokie trusteeship system. The AAPAC developed huge initiatives to retrieve, assimilate, and relocate such victimized souls, and turn them into proper Yankees, which will be explore in more detail shortly.

    After being founded in 1914, the AAPAC quickly garnered national attention, especially from the rising African-American middle class, and of course the President. It's estimated that at the organization's peak in 1925, over 1 in 2 African-Americans were members or had attended meetings. President Steele for his part commended the organization as "A fine and Christian institution doing the Lord's work of bringing Fundamentalism to the Pinnacle Man and setting him free" in 1918. The reality was that while Joe Steele was privately indifferent to the fate of the Afro-Cokies, he needed warm bodies to settle Lincolnia and the new territories. The inclusion of more African Pinnacle Blood to achieve that goal was thus perfect for him and his interests. Plus, he did believe in their Pinnaclehood and right to "freedom" in America; he just didn't care enough to agitate an economic ally, since he already had the overwhelming majority of former slaves safely in the RU's borders. The AAPAC worked in conjunction with ORRA to create a whole system of industrialized assimilation for the new arrivals before they even thought about how to get them out of Carolina. That was the hard part.

    As I'm sure you can imagine, the Cokies found the AAPAC incredibly annoying and offensive. Obviously they couldn't take any concrete steps against the AAPAC without offending Joe, but they did their damndest to keep them out of Jacksonland. Making matters worse, the AAPAC printed a large amount of materials discussing the treatment of Afro-Cokies that was, for the most part, accurate. This in turn encouraged boycotts against Cokie goods, most of which were fairly small, but some of them had real impacts on the Carolinian economy. However, in 1925, the Carolinians developed an incredibly cynical way to get the AAPAC off their back. Individual citizens and corporations worked in conjunction with the government to create a "market" for trusteeships. The best way to explain it is via an example. Say a Cokie planter in Jacksonland had 75 Afro-Cokie "trustees" working in his diamond mine. Now, say he either wanted to replace them with native workers, or was "encouraged" to do so by the colonial government looking to keep profitability up. What he would do is put their "trusteeships" up on the "trusteeship market," at a rate fixed to the price of whatever commodity his Afro-Cokie workers produced for him, in this case diamonds. So, if diamonds are selling for $500 a carat at the time, this worker's trusteeship might sell for $1000 dollars as an example. In essence, the Carolinians revived the slave markets of old to gradually sell of their Afro-Cokie workers to the AAPAC. The AAPAC fundraised millions of dollars at home, and received millions more from the Yankee government to purchase back Afro-Cokie laborers. On January 1st, 1926, the AAPAC newsletter, the Pinnacle African, predicted a "Exodus of the Chosen to their New Fatherland! All Hail!"

    However, the Cokies were sneakier than anyone anticipated. In order to draw out the process of retrieving the Afro-Cokies, and to maximize profit margins, Carolinian producers would cooperate to drive up commodity prices by withholding supplies from the market. Since the price of trusteeships was tied to commodity prices, this would make it much more expensive to buy freedom for their Afro-Cokie workers. This also had the unhappy effect of messing with the various Clans' bottom lines, making funds tighter. What this meant practically speaking is that instead of freeing 25% of the Afro-Cokie population by December 31st, 1926 like they had planned, the AAPAC had freed 5% and still used up all their money. However, this practice was ultimately unsustainable and a short-term solution. The fluctuations in commodity prices made Joe Steele very angry, and by 1928 most of these practices had ended. In the future, such price hikes would only accompany "bulk purchases" of trustees. Thus, new strategies were devised.

    The African-American population continued to back the AAPAC in this project, although enthusiasm dimmed somewhat due to the failure of the 1926 Exodus. Making matters worse, the Cokies took steps to ensure there were always people of Afro-Cokie blood up for sale on the trustee market. They actively encouraged or forced Afro-Cokies to have more children, using both incentives and punishments to get their desired outcome. Often times these children would barely be out of the womb before their Cokie masters put a trustee price on them. Another sneaky move some Cokies devised was passing off people who had as little as 1/8th Afro-Cokie blood as full blooded Pinnacle Africans. They correctly predicted that with some paperwork, the right training, and the right bible education, most AAPAC members would gladly accept them as lost sons and daughters of the New Jerusalem, rather than Infee Pygmoids. Although the AAPAC would eventually have a sizable impact on the Afro-Cokie population, they could never free all of them. This in turn created a permanent, profitable, and non-lethal option for Cokie colonists and businesses in dealing with rebellious workers, especially the ones truly descended from slave stock.

    Once the AAPAC purchased a trustee's freedom, the work of conversion would begin. This often wasn't too hard, as an overwhelming majority of Afro-Cokies were Christians, and the idea of following a Christian faith that said they were of Zion was immensely appealing. Upon release, an Afro-Cokie would go to a AAPAC Training Center. There were 12 such centers, one in Philadelphia, one in Prophetstown, two in New Antioch, five in Lincolnia, one in Keybeck City, and two in Metropolis. At first, all their handlers would be African-American, to help ease them into the process. As the subjects began absorbing more AFC doctrine and responding to limited electroshock therapy, white and Nipponese Americans would be introduced. This was done to ensure that many Afro-Cokies ingrained fear of white people didn't ruin the conversion process. A sizable minority couldn't undo that instinctive fear, and were thus lobotomized so as not to tie down resources on "lost causes lacking the Fluidation to accept the Prophet and overcome their fears." For those who responded well, the next phase of their training would begin.

    In the next phase, Afro-Cokie workers would be given lessons in reading, writing, and arithmetic. The goal was to ensure total literacy among the "New Pinnacle People" and to educate them in more Fascist ideology, such as the Strong Man Theory and the writings of Lincoln. Once these more basic concepts were mastered, education in basic science and business operations would begin for the brightest students, while the rest took shop and agricultural classes. Everyone, regardless of whether or not they took the science and business courses, would begin training in fisticuffs and firearm use after proving basic literacy and mathematical ability. The purpose of this was to train the former trustees to "Throw off their shackles and embrace their nature as Pinnacle Men so they might be ready to join the ranks of America's world-conquering Christian Soldiers." Students with particular aptitude in these areas often went on to careers in ORRA, some being extremely successful and joining the ranks of the ORRA brass. Regardless of whether or not they went on to ORRA, every Afro-Cokie would leave the Training Centers with the skills to survive and defend themselves, as well as to fight and die for God and Country. Training could be rather brutal, especially in the fisticuffs stage, where students often sparred with each other in bare knuckle matches. Nonetheless, basically all graduates would speak of the AAPAC with nothing but fondness upon leaving their Training Center.

    After being fully trained up, Afro-Cokie graduates of the Training Centers would be sorted via aptitude tests to determine where the AAPAC would place them. Some exceptional students were selected for the MDP, ORRA, RUMP, or white-collar Clan jobs. The overwhelming majority, however, would wind up being selected for "Frontier Destinies." What this meant is that with their training in a trade or agriculture they would be put to use settling Canada, Pacifica, Mexico, or Lincolnia. Often graduating classes would be sent in groups to one location, supplying Philadelphia with thousands of what were essentially on-demand communities of settlers. This was especially valuable in Lincolnia. Facing a larger population of Infees than sparsely populated Canada, immolated Mexico, or a Pacifica that suffered from intense genocide, Lincolnia needed Pinnacle Settlers. Even better, the overwhelming majority of AAPAC graduates still had violent prejudices against native Africans thanks to their previous lives in Jacksonland. They proved remarkably successful in keeping the population of "Infee Pygmoid False Pinnacle Men" under control, and helped bring the settlement of Lincolnia to a pace faster than anyone had seen since the early days of the Custer Presidency.

    Perhaps the great irony of this is that many Afro-Cokie settlers began treating the Infees in a manner similar to the way their old Cokie overlords treated them. This whole sad cycle became a machine for racist oppression. The Cokies would oppress Afro-Cokies in the colonies, thus helping drum up support for trustee purchases. After wringing every cent they could out of the AAPAC, the Cokies would hand over trustees and use that money to find ways to force their Afro-Cokie population to increase, or at least remain stable, thus ensuring a never-ending supply of human livestock. From there, the AAPAC would convert these people to the AFC and condition them to forget the fears and realities of their old lives. If their "subjects" proved unable of overcoming this massive hurdle, they would be lobotomized and stored somewhere far away like so many human vegetables. After their conversion, the AAPAC would train them to do "God's Work" in the wilderness. They would then be sent to foreign places, where they would act just like their overseers had, making more money for Philadelphia, some of which went to the AAPAC so the whole cycle could start again. Everyone benefited in this cycle, except the people it was trying to save. The Cokies got a new revenue stream. Philadelphia got an endless source of settlers. The leaders of the AAPAC could maintain their relevance and revenue, even if they weren't as popular as they were during the 1925 peak of enthusiasm. It was like some kind of bizarre new Triangle Trade, and just as dehumanizing.

    Metropolis AAPAC Training Center #1's Class of Pinnacle Women, circa 1929

    Soldiers trained by the AAPAC patrol a new settlement in Lincolnia (1930)

    A widely publicized image of young Afro-Cokie boys on a chain gang in Jacksonland (1927)
    Last edited: Nov 4, 2019
  2. Simeon La empresa crecerá más grande

    Jan 19, 2015
    The last picture’s mens’ eyes were surprisingly apt in conveying their condition.

    And now, we had the mechanism for the OTL African Dictators to Oswald themselves up.
    Last edited: Nov 4, 2019
  3. Murica1776 Building an American Tomorrow

    Jun 22, 2016
    That chapter was really depressing to write, but I feel captured the reality of the Madnessverse quite well. The last chapter in the African saga is going to talk about the long and complicated relationship between Cokie and Dutch Africa. Then, we'll see some stuff on a Cokie boy starting high school in Yankeeland. Another fun thought I had based on Part II of this story is the idea of writing some one-shots that are nothing but Cokie ambassadors, tourists, and military officers making an ass of themselves to Protestant foreigners as part of their national inferiority complex they have going.
  4. traveller76 Member

    Jul 29, 2006
    Fort Worth, TX
    You know, I would think that Steele and the Clans would become a little tired of Carolina's tricks. Say by 'losing' supplies and looking the other way when bandits attack.
  5. Murica1776 Building an American Tomorrow

    Jun 22, 2016
    I think you're absolutely right. I imagine that the driving up of prices would have been pretty unsustainable on its own as a way for the Cokies to keep the Afro-Cokies down. Maybe I should edit it to say that was an initial reaction, and was used sparingly after the flow of people out of Carolinian Africa stabilized. Afterwards, their program of essentially breeding Afro-Cokie trustees for sale in a manner reminiscent of OTL slave practices and the odd forging of paperwork to "Better" African natives did enough to keep the trustee market stable and profitable without resorting to seizing up markets.

    EDIT: I altered the chapter to reflect this! Good thinking @traveller76
  6. Zoidberg12 Well-Known Member

    Nov 7, 2012
    New Jersey, U.S.A.
    Here's another article. I hope to write more on different parts of Europe and other hitherto unexplored parts of the world soon.

    National Illuminism
    A History


    The Torch and Sword, symbol of National Illuminism
    With the rise of Illuminism in the aftermath of the Great World War, one minor and somewhat fringe variant of the ideology of Illuminism was the sub-ideology known as National Illuminism, called NatLooms as a shorthand by English-speaking academics. National Illuminism was mostly prevalent in the Illuminist nations of Russia, Poland, East Germany and Ukraine, although the ideology was also present in some other nations as well. National Illuminism, before it came to be known as such, first arose in Poland and Ukraine, nations which had long been under the domination of foreign empires. In Poland, independence was declared from Prussia as an Illuminist Republic under the leadership of the German-born Otto Werner, who was assisted in doing so by his two Polish right-hand men and fellow revolutionaries Włodek Ostrowski and Sobiesław Zaniewski. Ostrowski was a former writer and lawyer, while Zaniewski was a former soldier and union leader. Ostrowski viewed the Illuminist Revolution in Warsaw and the rest of Poland as a symbol of the brotherhood of man, but Zaniewski disagreed. While Zaniewski was willing to work with German and Russian Illuminists, he was also a fervent Polish nationalist, and he resented the centuries-long Prusso-Saxon German domination over the Polish nation and people and the separation of Poles in Nordisch, Europan and Russian lands. In his first published book, entitled Poland and Illuminism and published in 1916, Zaniewski stated that Poland should make use of its alliance with Russia to eventually regain its lands lost to Prussia and Austria during the Third Partition of Poland in 1795.​

    Włodek Ostrowski

    Sobiesław Zaniewski
    In spite of the aforementioned developments outside of Russia, the man who was considered to be the ideological founder of National Illuminism was the Russian writer and Illuminist politician and political theorist Fyodor Vasilyevich Bogdanov. Born on July 14, 1892 to moderately wealthy middle class parents in Smolensk, Bogdanov was originally supposed to go to university and study law just like his father. However, the warmongering of Mad Tsar Viktor would interrupt these plans and change young Fyodor’s life forever. On March 31, 1911, Mad Tsar Viktor ordered for the Russian intervention in the Chinese Civil War in support of the beleaguered Qing Empire. Soon afterwards, conscription was instituted throughout the Russian Empire, and the young Fyodor Bogdanov was one of the men conscripted into the army and sent east to fight the Chinese Republicans. It was these experiences that instilled in the young Fyodor and undying hatred of the corrupt Russian Armed Forces, the Imperial government of Russia and especially the Mad Tsar Viktor himself, whom he saw as “a vile and ferocious tyrant and an enemy of mankind.” After being shot in the leg and injured in battle outside of Harbin in September, 1912, Bogdanov was sent behind enemy lines to a field hospital to convalesce from his wounds. After he recovered from his wounds, Bogdanov was sent back home to Smolensk because of a limp in his leg. After returning home, he was distraught to find out that his father had just died of cancer, and his mother was still in mourning. With the start of the Illuminist Russian Revolution and the Russian Civil War, in 1915, after years of supporting and living with his mother, Bogdanov returned to a life in the military and joined the armed forces of the newly declared Russian Federation. Bogdanov fought fiercely and valiantly for the cause of the Russian Federation in many battles, and he even fought in the climactic Battle of St. Petersburg in 1920. After the end of the battle, he was arrested by Russian Illuminist armies and taken to old barracks used as a makeshift military prison outside of Vologda.

    While imprisoned, Bogdanov had begun to formulate his political ideas. During his imprisonment, he was constantly tortured and beaten into submission by his strict and fervently ideological Illuminist guards. As a result of this torture, Bogdanov was all but brainwashed into believing in the Illuminist ideology. During his imprisonment, torture and indoctrination, Bogdanov had trouble reconciling the Illuminism he had come to believe in with the ideas of the Russian nation and Russian Nationalism he had always held dear to his heart. Before long, he eventually came to the conclusion that Illuminism and Russian nationalism were not at all mutually exclusive and could actually co-exist together.

    After his release from prison in 1924, Bogdanov gained a job as a clerk for a local Illuminst party office in Moscow, which in 1921 was proclaimed by Protector of the People Oleg Volkov as the new capital of the Illuminist People’s Republic of Russia, with the capital being moved from St. Petersburg, which in 1920 was renamed Volkovgrad. While working at the party office, Bogdanov wrote his first book Illuminism and Russia. In this book, he argued that Russian nationalism was not compatible with the Illuminist ideology but that Russian nationalism was also meant to be an integral part of Illuminist ideology within the IPPR. Soon after its publication, the book became quite popular, especially with newly converted Illuminists who still had nostalgia for the nationalism of the Russian Empire. Protector Volkov was advised by some advisers that this nationalist strain of Illuminism could present a danger to his power and the mainline Illuminist ideology. This was in spite of the fact the IPPR was rather nationalistic, with the IPPR having numerous Autonomous Illuminist Republics or AIRs, albeit also supporting the idea of Illuminism as an ideology that represented a grand brotherhood of all peoples and nations across the world with the alliance of Russia, Poland, East Germany and Ukraine acting as a sort of revolutionary vanguard. However, Volkov dismissed these claims as alarmist nonsense. In 1926, Bogdanov was elected as a reprehensive from the district of Kazan to the Central Congress of the IPPR. During his time in the congress, Bogdanov argued not only for his ideology, which began to be called “National Illuminist”, but also for Illuminist Russia to engage in a more aggressive foreign policy, stating that Russia should engage in an “Indefinite Revolution” to spread Illuminist as far across the world as possible. In 1927, Bogdanov wrote and published his second book Eurasia, a book which advocated for intense Russian nationalism and militarism and the idea of Eurasianism and an aggressive Russian revolutionary and territorial expansion over all directions throughout the lands along Russian borders in Eurasia. In the book, Bogdanov argued that Russia should first invade Finland, the last bastion of the Nordisch monarchy, then turn to the Caucasus and invade Georgia and Armenia, then to the Middle East and then Turkey and Iraq, then the Persian Empire, then turn to East Asia and invade Tibet and Korea. He also argued that Russia should sow discord amongst nascent Illuminists in the Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia, Greece, Ruthenia, Austria-Hungary, Bohemia and Sweden-Denmark, and then to do the same in China. The book was also noteworthy for containing on its cover the crossed torch and sword, a symbol which would soon afterwards become the symbol of the ideology of National Illuminism.​

    Fyodor Bogdanov
    Throughout the late 1920s and early 1930s, Nationalism Illuminism, also sometimes called Bogdanovism, grew in some popularity throughout Russia, although mainstream Russian Illuminist was still the main line of thinking in both Russian government and society. As a result, Volkov began to see Bogdanov as a threat to his power and a dangerous warmonger who could possible get Russia involved in expansionist wars Volkov knew the Russian economy could not afford, especially since Nationalism Illuminism went directly against Volkov’s doctrine of “Illumination in One Country”, wherein the Russian government would not aggressively expand and instead foster Illuminism within its own borders as it top priory. In June, 1931, Volkov meet with numerous high ranking members of the Directorate for Internal Security (Управление внутренней безопасности/Upravleniye vnutrenney bezopasnosti, abbreviated as Увб/UVB) the joint interior ministry and secret police of the IPPR, led by former writer, artist and actor Vladimir Mayakovsky. During this meeting, Volkov and the UVB agreed to conduct an investigation of Bogdanov and to find out whether or not he was an agent for a foreign power or a subversive and reactionary internal agent. During the investigation, Bogdanov was found innocent of any subversive activities, much to disappointment of Volkov. Soon afterwards, on September 15, 1931, Bogdanov was found dead in his apartment in Moscow with multiple knife wounds. He was found murdered by a maid who worked in the apartment. The unofficial leader of the National Illuminism within Russia was now dead, and afterwards the National Illuminist faction in Russia became desperate and disorganized, and while it had a number of members and theorists, it had no organized leadership, and thus it gradually faded into obscurity. After a long investigation by the UVB, it was declared by Protetor Volkov and Director Mayakovsky that Bogdanov was murdered by a scorned homosexual lover named Vasily Medvedev, who soon afterwards was arrested and executed. It is true that Bogdanov was a closeted homosexual and that he had just ended his relationship with Medvedev but whether or not Medvedev murdered his ex-lover is a matter of debate, with many historians claiming that the UVB had Medvedev framed for a murder he did not commit.

    Vladimir Mayakovsky

    One of Bogdanov’s best friends was Klaus Walther Grotewohl, a veteran of the German Illuminist Revolution and a writer and journalist who was working as a correspondent for the East German government in Moscow. Born in Posen on August 22, 1895, Grotewohl, in his youth, was a staunch German patriot and believer in German unification, at least until his time at the Humboldt University of Berlin, during which he became introduced to underground Illuminst literature. This, combined with the horrors he witnessed during the Germanian Civil War, made him a firm and committed Illuminist revolutionary. Soon after the death of Bodganov, Grotewohl returned to Volksburg where he began to spread the ideology of Nationalism Illimunism through his newspaper and magazine articles. In these articles, Grotewohl stated that Illuminism should also encompass pre-war German nationalism, as he argued it was “the only way for the German volk and nation to be united under one glorious banner, the banner of National Illuminism.” After being elected to the Illuminist German Volksrat in 1934, he became the unofficial leader of the National Illuminist faction in East Germany. However, this faction was a minor and fringe faction in the Volksrat, with barely any support from the East German public.​

    Klaus Walther Grotewohl
    National Illuminism also found immense popularity in the autonomous republics of Russia such as Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia, whereas in other autonomous republics a sense of national consciousness had not yet taken hold, this also being the case with the numerous ethnic groups of Russia with no autonomous republics. One of the most prominent National Illuminists from the Russian autonomies was Vygantas Voldemaras, a Lithuanian veteran of the Siege of Budapest and the Russian Civil War who fought on the side of the Illuminists. After the end of the Russian Civil War, Voldemaras became disillusioned with the fact that Lithuania had failed to achieve independence from Russia. Thus, after reading some of the works of Fyodor Bogdanov, in 1930, Jankauskas founded the National Illuminist People’s Union of Lithuania, a National Illuminist political party that advocated for the independence of Lithuania from the IPPR. In 1933, similar parties where established by Bogdanov devotees in Latvia and Estonia. These included the Latvian Independent Illuminist Union, founded by Arturs Kalnbērziņš, and the Estonian Illuminist Union, founded by Taavi Käbin.
    Vygantas Voldemaras

    Arturs Kalnbērziņš

    Taavi Käbin
    National Illuminism also found some popularity in Finland, which was still under the control of the former Germanian monarchy, the Germanian and Finnish nobility as well as a mostly Finnish government. Nevertheless, with the Illuminists in Russia right on their doorstep and with increasing discontent amongst the Finnish population against the Nordic monarchy and nobility, it was the perfect environment for Illuminists to begin activity within the Kingdom of Finland. The main Illuminist party in Finland was the outlawed Finnish Illuminist Party led by former university professor and writer Evert Eloranta, with a National Illuminist faction led by Elmo Kaila, a Finnish veteran of the German Revolution, with Kaila viewing the expulsion of the foreign Germanian monarchy and nobility, as well as all German exiles, as an integral part of a combined Finnish national revolution and Finnish Illuminist revolution. While the party was illegal in Finland, it still operated under the guise of “The People's Society of Finland”, a group that operated as a club of Enlightenment-inspired intellectuals, although nothing could be farther from the truth.​

    Evert Eloranta

    Elmo Kaila

    In the end, National Illuminism was a widespread albeit still small and minor variant of the Illuminist ideology that was found all over, and sometimes even outside of, the Illuminist sphere of nations.
  7. Murica1776 Building an American Tomorrow

    Jun 22, 2016
    I can't think of anything else to write about in Cokie Africa for now, so I'm going ahead and getting started on this next series

    A Fresh Start

    Belmont High School in Belmont, MA (Jan. 1934)

    August 25th, 1933

    Bobby Johnson woke up with a start. He looked at his alarm clock, and after gazing at the portrait of the Cokie Vulture in the center for a moment, he saw it was 6:30 in the morning. Grumbling to himself, he got dressed, combed his hair, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. Shortly after Bobby finished putting on his tie, the smell of livermush came wafting into his room. He smiled a bit. Momma must've used some of her special reserve of the stuff so his siblings and him could get a proper start to their new life. He came clambering down the steps and cut in front of his siblings to get his breakfast. His sister Eliza glared at him, but he was the oldest and his spot at the front of the line was God-given. Pop was already eating, and drinking Foster's Coffee, the finest coffee ever grown on Yonderlandian soil. He got a mug of it himself, and put in 2 sugar cubes and some creamer. He looked at the can of Foster's and his heart sank. It was almost empty. Soon they'd have to start buying that Yankee swill. Damnyankees.

    Pop stopped chewing for a bit and greeted his family with more pep than normal, "There's my favorite bunch of Cokie rascals! Y'all make sure you eat up, we ain't gonna be eatin this good till Christmas, so I want every bit of that livermush, eggs, and coffee gone before you leave, ok? And make sure today goes well. We gotta adjust to where we're livin after all!" That last sentence made Bobby want to scream. Scream about how they wouldn't have to adjust if Pop had been content to wait 2 more years for a promotion instead of getting all wide-eyed when that Yankee from Colonel Goodyear offered him a fat raise if he would come work in Boston. Sure, they might have a house that's bigger and in a nicer suburb than back home, but home was home. Of course, he didn't want to get a 7 AM switching, so he said nothing and ate as fast as humanly possible. Pop left about 10 minutes later, making sure to be more affectionate than normal. Fighting the urge to swat his old man's hand away, Bobby smiled as his old man tussled his hair. He finished his meal and went to the kitchen counter to grab his lunch. He looked inside the brown paper bag to find a chicken salad sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of Cokie-Cola. Another luxury they would soon have to give up. He was almost out the door when his mom stopped him.

    "What is it momma, I don't want to be late for my first day."

    "Ya know mister, if you don't fix that attitude right now I might not give you the present I saved for you."

    Bobby's eyebrows shot up "Sorry momma. Just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. What's the present?"

    Mom had a wide grin on her face as she pulled a little wax package out of her apron pocket. Bobby didn't need to read the label to know what it was.

    "Momma, I thought we didn't have any Moon Pies?"

    Her smile took on a more conspiratorial glint "Well, as far as your father and siblings are concerned, we don't. I saved that for you because after your initial... outburst, you've been a real trooper about this move. I know it ain't easy for you. It ain't easy for none of us. But for the most part you've been quiet and helpful, even though you had the most to lose out of all of us. Your sisters and brother, God help me, were kickin and screamin for months, as you well know. So consider this a thank you. Now go on, you're gonna be late."

    Bobby pecked his mother on the cheek and ran out, intent on making it to school on time. He made it to his new school, Belmont High School, right on time. He reported to the office and found a dour old woman sitting behind the reception desk.

    "Excuse me ma'am, I'm new to this school and my paperwork said I should report here before class started?"

    Without looking up, the crone replied "Sit over there, Principal Carruthers will be with you shortly."

    Bobby took a seat and sat down. With nothing else to do, he stared at the wall for a solid 10 minutes until a stern looking old man with a tie cinched around his neck as tightly as possible and a comically large Union lapel pin stepped out into the reception area. "Is there a Robert Johnson out here?"

    Bounding out of his seat, Bobby stood up and offered his hand for a handshake."That would be me sir!"

    The old man studied him for a second and then shook Bobby's extended hand. "I'm Principal Cornelius Carruthers. It's a pleasure to meet you Robert. Please follow me to my office."

    The two walked down a short corridor in silence. On both sides of the hallway, President Steele glared down on all in a particularly stern looking piece of photographic portraiture. Under each portrait, a plaque said "President Joseph Custer Steele, President of the Republican Union of America, Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces, Atheling of the Party and Champion of our Liberties. All Hail His Name!" Before going into the office, Principal Carruthers stopped to give each portrait a Fascist salute, leaving Bobby feeling quite awkward, as he was uncertain of what to do. The awkward salute over, the two men stepped into the Principals' office.

    "So Robert, I am to understand you are a new freshman transferring here from middle school in North Carolina?"

    "Yes sir, that's correct."

    The Principal nodded and shuffled some papers around, finding a form "Young man, I need you to fill out this form. This will enlist you as a Foreign Auxiliary Brigadier in the Custer Youth Brigade. You will be required to attend a weekly Brigade meeting on Saturday, and will still technically be a member of the Armed Forces of the Republican Union. However, given your Carolinian citizenship, there are certain ideological classes and related events you will not be required to attend, although you are allowed and encouraged to do so. This will only take a moment."

    Bobby picked up a pen and filled out all the requisite information. He also fought the urge to grimace. He really didn't want to join the Yankee Doodle Brigade, but he didn't have much of a choice, and resisting it would only make things worse. Having filled out the form, he handed it back to Principal Carruthers, who looked it over, nodded approvingly, and set it aside. "Thank you Robert. Now, I have assigned you a guide to help you through your first week here at Belmont High. She should be waiting for you in the lobby. Good day."

    "Thank you sir. I look forward to the school year!"

    With that, Bobby turned and left the office, avoiding eye contact with the portraits of Joe Steele and walking back into the reception area. There, a pretty girl in an expensive looking dress and a fashionable haircut was waiting impatiently. In the deliberate enunciation of New England Old Money she asked "Are you Robert Johnson?"

    Offering another friendly handshake, Bobby said "That's me, although I prefer to go by Bobby."

    Not bothering to take his hand, the girl gave him a cold calculating look "My name is Vera Stark. I'm your guide for today, and we'll have daily lunch meetings for the rest of the week to help acclimate you. Let's get moving."

    Biting his tongue to prevent a smart remark from coming out, Bobby put his hand back by his side and followed behind her. They went into the school's main hallway, and she began pointing out where each classroom was, including his homeroom. She also gave him his locker assignment and lead him into other wings of the school. He took in this wave of information politely, and said nothing. She led him back to his homeroom nigh wordlessly.

    Before sending him inside she said "Alright, I'm assuming you understood everything I said even if I wasn't talking like some Carolinian hick. We meet again at lunch, which is from 12:30-1:15. We'll talk about how to get you involved in the school, and I'll answer any questions you have. Got it?"

    Resenting her hick remark, Bobby replied with a sarcastic "Yes ma'am."

    Vera gave him something of a contemptuous look before sauntering off. As he went into homeroom, Bobby had the chance to think Damn, she's a pain in the ass.

    Homeroom began shortly after he entered, and he found the last available seat in the class. A young woman walked in, wearing a conservative dress with a Union pin on the front.

    "Good morning class, my name is Miss Vanderbilt and I will be your homeroom teacher this year. In the spirit of starting your freshman year of high school off in a friendly manner, let's each introduce ourselves to the class after we stand for the Pledge of Allegiance."

    The Pledge was another awkward experience, as although he stood, he did not salute. After all, he was still a Cokie citizen, so he legally couldn't participate in the Pledge. About two dozen Yankees had stood up and introduced themselves before it was Bobby's turn. Getting up slowly, Bobby made sure to maintain a proud posture and said "Hello everyone. My name is Robert Johnson, but please call me Bobby. I'm from a small town outside of Charlotte, North Carolina. I love playing sports and reading about history. I hope I can become friends with all y'all."

    There were unmistakable whispers around the class. Everyone else in there was from the RU, and no one from farther away than New York. Bobby made sure to keep a proud posture. Everyone else introduced themselves, and the bell promptly rang. Bobby rushed to his first period class, which was history. He found a seat next to a tall, bulky fella with blonde hair. Bobby chatted with him a bit and learned his name was Reginald Adams, no relation to the traitorous President of the Old Republic, and had an amiable enough time with him. However, he felt a spit ball hit him in the back of the head moments later. Looking back, he saw about 4 boys from his homeroom class pointing and laughing. Wonderful.

    A middle aged gentleman in a tweed jacket with, of course, a Union lapel pin came in and introduced himself as Mr. Gray. They began reading about the Strong Man Theory and how it related to modern and pre-modern history. At the end of the class, there was an assignment. A 3 page paper and a 5 minute oral presentation on a Strong Man from history and how his Pinnacle Fluidation bent the arc of history to his will. There was a pre-approved list of topics that included George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, President Custer, Winston Churchill, and Joe Steele. The paper was due two weeks from now. However, Mr. Gray also allowed Strong Men not on the list if the student consulted with him. Thus, Bobby left class with permission for a paper on Andy Jackson.

    The next two periods are Chemistry and Advanced Algebra, which pass by fairly quickly. Bobby was competent enough in both classes to surprise his Yankee classmates, which he took pride in. He might hate living here, but while he is in the wilderness of Yankeeland, he decided that he would do his damndest to give the Republic Jackson Built a good name. After Advanced Algebra, it was time for lunch. Great, he thought, more condescension and awkward silence from the Yankee broad.

    He found her at a table talking to a guy and gal in some kind of a matching couples' outfit. He plopped down across from her and smiled broadly.

    The one girl went "Vera, who's your friend here?"

    Grimacing she said "Doug, Amy, meet Robert Johnson, our new import from the Carolinas."

    Doug and Amy gave him a funny look but politely greeted him, and then finished talking to Vera. As they left, Bobby noticed they left arm in arm.

    Trying to make conversation, he said, "They make a swell couple, don't ya think Vera?"

    To his shock, Vera burst out laughing like a lunatic. She calmed down after a solid 30 seconds and then explained "Oh Robert, you have much to learn. They're twins, scions of the Shay family, a very powerful family around here. Didn't you notice they had the same brown hair and green eyes?"

    "They seem kinda... touchy feely for a brother and sister, Vera."

    "Oh, you're quite right. Doug is a bit of a ladies man, but his sister is the quiet sort, so she's really latched on to him. Sign of weak fluids if you ask me, although I'll never tell her that."

    He nodded and went back to his chicken salad sandwich. It was a big one, and it took longer to eat than expected. To his surprise, Vera broke the silence while he was mid-bite.

    "So," she said, "You're not at all what I expected you to be."

    Swallowing his food, Bobby responded "What exactly does that mean?"

    She sat and pondered for a moment as she chewed her school hamburger. Bobby gave her a piercing look the whole time, expecting more anti-Carolinian vitriol. Those jackasses from homeroom hadn't stopped harassing him, and he was starting to get pissed off.

    Finally, she spoke "You don't fit the Cokie stereotype."

    "You mean I don't have a scraggly beard, a redneck accent, and I ain't spittin tobacco every 20 seconds or screaming yee yee every time I get something right in class."

    She nodded "Something like that. I always heard that Carolinians were stupid ingrates who married inside their own bloodlines and had a rather coarse accent. While I can't speak to your family tree or intelligence, you don't have the accent at least. And you carry yourself differently from a redneck."

    Fighting the urge to make a nasty retort, he responded "Well, I can assure you I'm not a moron, nor are my mother and father brother and sister or cousins or some other such nonsense. As for the rest, we're proud, middle class Cokie folk. My pop went to UNC-Chapel Hill on a government loan after serving in the Loomie War, and my momma went to school to become a seamstress. Our way of talkin is called the Charleston Sound because it originated with the planters of Charleston way back when. It spread through the rich and middle class over time thanks to their cultural influence. We aren't some kind of dumb redneck clan."

    Seemingly surprised by his relative eloquence, Vera nodded and said "No, I suppose you aren't."

    Bobby nodded and finished his sandwich, apple, and soda in relative silence. Then, he pulled out his wax wrapped moon pie and took a big bite. Vera looked at the chocolate treat with curiosity. Bobby raised an eyebrow and said "It's called a Moon Pie. Real big delicacy back home. You want a bite?"

    Looking around, almost as if she was being watched, she waited for a moment and then nodded. Bobby broke off a big piece and gave it to her. Her face lit up as soon as she took a bite "Oh my! I have to say, that was actually quite scrumptious."

    Bobby smiled at her and said "Yeah, they're real good ain't they." His voice trailed off as he thought about the fact that it would be months before he could get that taste of home again. Vera noticed his change in mood and the silence returned. A couple minutes later, the bell rang, and they went their separate ways.

    Bobby sat through his last class of the day, English Classics, with moderate interest. They were starting the year with an examining how Lord and Lady Macbeth were one of the first "Pinnacle Couples" in English, complete with analysis and a reading report at the end of the month. With this in mind, and some math homework being due as well, it appeared that the school year was getting off to a running start. When the final bell rang, he noticed that those 4 boys from homeroom were back, and they brought a few friends. They started moving towards him and he felt panic wash over him. He remembered what his father had taught him about fear; that it was useless and temporary. Setting down his backpack, he squared up with the boys. The leader of the gang, a blue eyed and brown haired fella he remembered introducing himself as Anthony Miller greeted him with a friendly "How's it going you redneck moron!" The gang of Yankees cackled.

    "What do you want Anthony?"

    More laughing from the hooligans. "What I want, you hillbilly idiot, is for you to get your stinking redneck self outta my school! This is Yankee country!" A cheer rose up from both the gang, and an alarming number of other students. Bobby just shrugged his shoulders and said "No can do sir."

    Anthony gave a smirk and decided to taunt him some more "I mean it Cokie boy! We don't need your people's brand of weak momma's boys up here. Plus, your dad has to be too stupid to do whatever job brought him up here anyway. Best go home before he embarrasses himself."

    "My pop isn't stupid."

    "Awww, listen to him sticking up for his "pop." It's adorable. Doesn't change the facts though. Your dad is a big ol dummy. Just like your mom and sisters are the biggest whores to emerge since Babylon!"

    Rather than respond to that last insult, Bobby quietly took off his jacket and tie, and rolled up his shirt sleeves, even as the crowd continued jeering. "You gonna back up your words Anthony?"

    "What's that supposed to mean Cokie boy?"

    "What it means, you ignorant viper, is that where I come from, someone talks about another man's family like that, they best be ready for a fight. Now, we can do this two ways. Either you meet me in the middle and fight me like a man. Or, I Take A Little Trip over there and whoop your sorry ass."

    Anthony and his boys laughed. "You can't seriously be challenging me. I'm 5 inches taller than you, more trained than you, and I have real Pinnacle Fluids. You don't stand a chance."

    "Prove it then, you big sissy."

    The crowd that had gathered around this verbal sparring match in the hallway started mindlessly chanting "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" Not wanting to look bad in front of everyone, Anthony stepped forward and Bobby did the same. Without warning, Anthony swung a powerful right hook...

    ... and missed. Bobby had moved too fast for him. Frustrated, Anthony swung again, and missed again. Bobby gave him a couple jabs to the chest to throw him off balance before tackling him to the ground. Anthony got him off, but not before Bobby had managed to break his nose. As Miller got angrier and angrier, he swung with more and more power. One cross actually hit Bobby and knocked him on the ground. However, he got right back up and, enraged himself, stopped playing by traditional fighting rules. He got in close to Miller and kneed him in the testicles. As Miller crumpled to the ground, Bobby took the opportunity to kick him in the stomach repeatedly, causing the taller boy to throw up. One of Miller's boys joined in after that happened, a junior by the name of Marcus Nilsson, who was about the same size as Miller. He got a couple good hits in, breaking Bobby's nose. Not even bothering with the pretense of fighting fair at this point, Bobby used his speed to out flank Nilsson and punched him right in the kidneys, then punched him in the face as he doubled over, knocking out a tooth.

    Predictably, a fight of this scale caused a commotion that was noticed quickly. Several teachers stormed over to stop the fighting right as a third boy, closer to Bobby's size, was preparing to challenge him. A very stern looking Principal Carruthers was close behind. He snapped his fingers and the boys were grabbed up by teachers and dragged to the Principal's office.

    Once they were in there, Carruthers closed the door and asked "What started this small riot in my school?"

    Bobby spoke up "Sir, Anthony and his boys were harassing me and saying despicable things about my family. You can ask any of the folks out there."

    Carruthers looked at Anthony and Marcus. "Is this true?"

    The boys nodded glumly, and said nothing. The Principal sighed and said, "You two have Saturday detention for a month. Fail to show up to one, and I'll get RUMP on you. Now get out. Robert, please stay behind."

    The two Yankees mumbled "thank you sir" and practically ran out. Bobby tried desperately to put on a brave face, fearing the punishment to come. Principal Carruthers sipped his coffee calmly, and then set it back down.

    "Robert, you have two choices for your punishment. You can attend Saturday detention with the other boys. Or you can try out for the school fisticuffs team in two weeks."

    "Pardon sir?"

    "Robert, I'm a veteran of the Immolation of Mexico, the Pacific Wars, and the Great War. I know a Strong Man when I see one. You are a Strong Man, whether or not you realize it. The instinctual brutality with which you dispatched those troublemakers is proof. You have Pinnacle Fluids, and if we hone them, you could achieve greatness. Though I am curious: did you receive formal training back in Carolina?"

    "No sir. However, I got a different kinda training. In my hometown, there wasn't a lot for boys our age to do other than work, fish, or hunt, and even those opportunities were limited. So, lots of us got together and created what we called the Cokie Boy Fight Club. Rules were simple. No weapons, no whining. There was technically a prohibition on hittin one another in the manhood region, but it wasn't terribly well enforced. If was hit or be hit. Fight or die. I was one of the best because I practiced all the time and learned to use my head."

    Principal Carruthers had an approving smile on his face "Ah, Social Darwinism at it's most elemental. That sounds like a truly bully bunch of chums you had back home. They obviously taught you how to fight. So, will you be trying out for the team?"

    Bobby paused for a second, before his own smile emerged "Yes sir I will!"

    "Wonderful! Take this permission form to your parents and have them sign it. I think you have great potential young man."

    Bobby took the form and thanked Principal Carruthers before running home. His mother was obviously quite concerned when he came home an hour late with a broken nose and bruising. He told her the whole story, and she started beaming with pride at how he had stuck up for her. His father was also pleased when he heard the news, and praised his son for "showing those Yankee boys that you don't mess with Carolina!" He also signed the permission slip for fisticuffs. Everyone, even his annoying youngest sister Alice was thrilled with his victory, and mom made fried chicken the Cokie way to celebrate. It was a good evening by any standard.

    August 26th, 1933
    Bobby didn't so much walk into school next day as he did swagger. He figured beating up two jackasses like Anthony Miller and Marcus Nilsson would earn him a little respect. He wasn't wrong. In fact, several people thanked him for putting the "Miller Gang" in its place. Apparently, they'd been the local bullies for quite some time. He still got some ugly glares from the same people that had cheered Anthony and his boys yesterday, but no one said anything. In History, he learned that Mr. Gray was also his potential fisticuffs coach, and he stayed behind a while longer to practice some moves. Chem and Adv. Algebra went by well enough, and school work didn't seem to be much more difficult than back home.

    When he got settled in for lunch, Vera plopped down right across from him. For a good minute, nothing was said. Then she blurted out "So, I hear you whipped the Miller Gang yesterday."

    "That's right, what about it?"

    Her eyes narrowed, "That was incredibly stupid, you do know that don't you?"

    Bobby set down his sandwich, "Why's that exactly?"

    "You do realize they're just going to keep coming after you now, right?"

    He snorted "Let em, I could use some good punching bags."

    Vera gave a rather dramatic eye roll. "You won one fight. You're not invincible."

    Deciding to get a rise out of her, Bobby replied "We'll see about that, now won't we sweetheart?"

    Before he fully processed what had happened, Vera had grabbed him by the collar and said "Now you listen here smart aleck. I don't know who you think you are, but I'm Vera Stark, a full-blooded descendant of the Pinnacle Stark Family. We practically founded this town as you know it, and I will not be disrespected by some arrogant upstart Cokie. Do. You. Understand?"

    Putting his hands up in mock surrender, Bobby replied "Well of course ma'am, I meant no offense. Chalk it up to a difference in cultures and how we Cokies refer to the fairer sex. I apologize profusely." His words were apologetic, but his amused smirk was not. Vera let him go, but glared daggers at him for the rest of their silent lunch.

    Bobby went to his last class of the day, and then started walking home. Remembering what Vera said about Anthony Miller probably wanting to come at him again, Bobby made a point of tripping him as he left the school building. Just to remind him of his new place. The chorus of laughter that erupted said it all. Even if Miller tried to go after Bobby again, he would never enjoy the tyrannical presence he used to. With that done, Bobby prepared to start working on his projects and practice his new fisticuffs moves. He had work to do to carve out his place here in the hostile climes of Yankeeland...
    Last edited: Nov 8, 2019
  8. traveller76 Member

    Jul 29, 2006
    Fort Worth, TX
    So it's Grease meets Our Miss Brooks. I like it.
    Murica1776 likes this.
  9. Murica1776 Building an American Tomorrow

    Jun 22, 2016
    There's also going to be references to other teen tv shows and movies in here as the series progresses. Honestly, I imagine Yankee high schools being closer to TV levels of craziness than OTL because all the parties will literally likely have cocaine, meth and psychedelics. We've already seen in the main thread how the Pinnacle Fluids ideology could encourage shenanigans both sexual and non-sexual. It's gonna be wild.
  10. Zoidberg12 Well-Known Member

    Nov 7, 2012
    New Jersey, U.S.A.
    A History of the Spanish Bourbons


    The history of the Spanish Bourbons begins with the end of the Spanish Hapsburgs and the War of the Spanish Succession from 1701 to 1713. The era of the Spanish Hapsburgs saw the rise of Spain as a great empire and world power, and this continued with the first century of Spain under the rule of the Spanish Bourbons. Phillip V, who was originally a French royal born Prince Philip of Anjou and was a grandson of the Sun King Louis XIV, became the first Bourbon monarch of Spain, and he reigned from 1700 to 1746 [1]. His eldest son Louis, Prince of Asturias, died at the age of seventeen in 1724, and thus his third-born son Prince Ferdinand became Ferdinand, Prince of Asturias. After his death, King Phillip V was succeeded by numerous successful Spanish Bourbon monarchs such as his oldest-surviving son Ferdinand VI (1713-1759), who reigned from 1746 to 1759, his fourth-born son Charles III (1716-1788), who reigned from 1759 to 1788, and Charles IV (1748-1819), who was the eldest son of Charles III and reigned from 1788 to 1819. The era of Spain as a great power came to a gradual end after the end of the Napoleonic Wars, with the Spanish Empire becoming massively in debt to a number of other European powers. With the Congress of Vienna in 1826, the Cuban Revolution, the Franco-Allied Invasion of Spain, the revolutions in Mexico, Texas, Grand Colombia and Peru and the dividing up of the old Spanish Empire, the rest as they say, is history. The last Bourbon King of Spain was King Ferdinand VIII, who reigned from 1819 to 1827, when he committed suicide during the Spanish-Coalition War, after which Spain went into a personal union with the French Bonapartes and the French Empire.

    Phillip V

    Ferdinand VI

    Charles III

    Charles IV

    All in all, Ferdinand VII is considered to be one of the worst and most hated monarchs in all of Spanish history, as his reign saw the end of Spain as a not only a global empire and world power but also as a sovereign kingdom. Throughout his life, there was a lot of pressure on Ferdinand to have a male heir. As Prince of Asturias, Prince Ferdinand married Princess Maria Antonia of Naples and Sicily, the daughter of King Ferdinand IV of Naples and III of Sicily and Queen Maria Carolina of Austria, on October 6, 1802 in Barcelona, Spain. However, the princess was not able to bear Ferdinand an heir, as two pregnancies in 1804 and 1805 ended in miscarriages, and she died of tuberculosis on 21 May 1806 at the Royal Palace of Aranjuez in Aranjuez, Spain. Over ten years later, on September 29, 1819, Prince Ferdinand was married for a second time to his niece Princess Maria Isabel of Braganza, the daughter of his older sister Carlota Joaquina of Spain and the disposed former King John VI of Portugal. It should also be noted that Prince Ferdinand was the maternal uncle of Princess Maria Isabel of Braganza.

    Ferdinand, Prince of Asturias, 1800

    Maria Isabel of Braganza
    In November, 1816, almost two months after the marriage, Prince Ferdinand and Princess Maria conceived of a child. The child was born on August 21, 1817 as Infanta María Luisa Isabel, and thus Ferdinand had no male heir. Sadly though, the child died after less than five months on January 9, 1818. Three months later in April, 1818, Prince Ferdinand and Princess Maria conceived of a child for a second time. On December 26, 1818, the child was born as Infanta Isabella Luisa Fernanda, who soon became known simply by her first name of Isabella, and thus Ferdinand had no male heir once again [2].

    Soon after this birth for the Bourbons, came a death for the Bourbons. On January 20, 1819, King Charles IV of Spain, famous for his allying of Spain with France during both the French Revolutionary Wars and the Napoleonic Wars, after which Spain emerged victorious over the British Empire, died at the age of 70 at the Royal Palace of Aranjuez in Aranjuez, Spain. He was succeeded as King of Spain by his eldest son Ferdinand, Prince of Asturias, who became King Ferdinand VII of Spain. As a result, Ferdinand’s newborn daughter became Princess of Asturias. Much to the disappointment of much of the Spanish nobility, especially to traditionalists, were disappointed by the birth of a daughter, as most feared that a female monarch would not be able to be a strong leader for the Spanish nation and to fix the many problems facing the Kingdom of Spain, including a large debt and overstretched and decaying empire. Nevertheless, a female heir was what the Spanish monarchy and people had for now.

    Throughout the early years of her life, Isabella was raised in a loving family and royal household. Sadly, this state of affairs was not meant to last. On April 13th, 1827, the Spanish-Allied War began over the outrage over the Spanish response to the Cuban Revolution and the numerous unpaid Spanish debts to other European powers. As a result, French troops invaded Spain through Andorra, and armies from all over French-allied Europe would soon follow. With Spain then being invaded form multiple directions, with their Latin American colonies in revolt and with the Dutch invasion of the Spanish Philippines, it was clear to Ferdinand VII that things were quickly spiraling out of control of the Kingdom of Spain. On the night of June 8, 1827, in his private quarters in the El Escorial Palace in Madrid, King Ferdinand VII committed suicide with a shot to the face with a flintlock pistol that always sat in the top drawer of his dresser. With that, Ferdinand VII would be the last king of an independent Spanish kingdom and nation.

    In the early morning hours of June 9, 1827, just hours after the suicide of King Ferdinand VII, Queen Maria, Princess Isabella, Infante Carlos, Count of Molina, Infante Francisco de Paula, Duke of Cádiz and the other members of the Spanish House of Bourbon fled hastily from Madrid with a caravan of carriages and carts carrying as many possessions of the royal family as they could possibly take with them. The Royal Caravan then fled to the city of Cadiz in the region of Andalusia in southern Spain, after which the royal family with their possessions boarded a fleet of large royal ships bound for their nearest nation that would take them in as exiles. After boarding these ships, the royal family then fled with this fleet of ships to the Republic of Scotland. After a few weeks docked in Edinburgh, Scotland, the so-called Bourbon Fleet then was forced to flee from Scotland to the Republic of Georgia, as Georgia was the only major western nation which would allow the exile of the Spanish Bourbons in their nation. Every nation in Europe was seemingly against the Spanish Bourbons, including Scotland, with Scottish President Thomas Bruce [3], the former 7th Earl of Elgin and a descendant of the Scottish King Robert the Bruce, not wanting to harbor the exiled Bourbons for fear of serious backlash from Caesar Napoleon and the French Empire. Coincidentally, Georgia had seen a lot of immigration of Spain in recent years as a result of good relations with the French Empire, as well as the French-Allied invasion of Spain that resulted in Spanish refugees fleeing to many nations across the New World.

    Infante Carlos, Count of Molina

    Infante Francisco de Paula, Duke of Cádiz

    Thomas Bruce
    The Bourbon Family, with Infante Carlos as the new patriarch and regent, settled into a life of comfort in a series of large mansions and town houses both in and outside of St. Augustine, the first city founded by a European nation in the American republics, founded by the Spanish Empire all the way back in 1565, with this historical significance being the main reasons that the Bourbon Family settled in the city. The Bourbon Family gradually assimilated to the culture of the Republic of Georgia, with the Bourbons quickly improving upon their English language skills (in the Spanish Court they were taught French, English, Italian and German), speaking English in public and even gaining a Georgian accent to their English. The Bourbons also gave monetary support to Spanish immigrant communities in the Republic of Georgia, many of which were located in the hitherto-sparsely populated and formerly Spanish-region of Florida. The Bourbons soon also gave monetary support to other immigrants coming into Florida, something with the Georgian government also supported in an effort to increase the white population of the area. Before long, these new immigrants, as well as White settlers from other parts of Georgia, came into conflict with the Seminole Indians of Florida. Thus, the Second Seminole War between the government of Georgia and the Seminole tribes began in 1833, the First Seminole War lasting from 1815 to 1818, shortly after the Georgian purchase of Florida. During this war Infante Carlos, Count of Molina and Infante Francisco de Paula, Duke of Cádiz volunteered for service in the Georgian military and raised militia units, consisting mostly of pioneers and immigrants, to fight against the Seminole Indians. These militia units were massively successful and greatly helped the war effort of the regular Georgian Army. The war ended in a victory for Georgia in 1838, with most of the Seminoles relocated to reservations.

    An illustration of Georgian settlers and immigrants being massacred by Seminole Warriors

    On January 30, 1836, in a Roman Catholic ceremony in the Cathedral Basilica of St. Augustine, the seventeen year-old Princess Isabella married her eighteen year-old cousin Franciso de Asis, Duke of Cádiz (born November 13, 1817) [4], the eldest son of Infante Francisco de Paula, Duke of Cádiz and Princess Luisa Carlotta of Naples and Sicily (born October 24, 1800) [5], daughter of Francis Gennaro Giuseppe, son of the deposed King Ferdinand IV of Naples and III of Sicily and María Isabella of Spain, daughter of the late Charles IV of Spain. It should also be noted that the Neapolitan and Sicilian Bourbons settled down in Georgia along with the Spanish Bourbons, where they gave monetary support to southern Italian, Sicilian and other Italian immigrant communities in Georgia. Soon after the marriage, the couple gave birth prematurely to their first and only child, Prince Alfonso Bourbon, in St. Augustine on October 1, 1836.

    Princess Isabella, photographed in 1850

    Francisco de Asis, Duke of Cádiz

    Soon after the Louisiana Purchase of 1836, the Bourbons moved to the newly Georgian city of New Orleans, a city which has under the control of the Spanish Empire from 1763 to 1802, and as a result had a large Spanish influence in addition to its larger French influence. However, soon after this move, tragedy would strike the Bourbons. On September 20, 1837, Maria Isabel, Queen Mother and Matriarch of the Spanish Bourbons, died in the Bourbon Family Mansion in New Orleans at the age of 40. As a result, the young Princess Isabella, known to Bourbonists, the supporters of a Bourbon restoration to the Spanish throne, as Queen Isabella II, became matriarch of the Bourbon dynasty and family, and her son Prince Alfonso would grow up and spend his formative years in New Orleans, a large, bustling and multicultural port city that was a major hub of trade in the Gulf of Mexico and North America as a whole.


    Throughout their time in New Orleans, the Bourbons would continue their philanthropic activities, not only monetarily assisting immigrants but also funding schools, hospitals, local businesses and trading posts throughout New Orleans. The Bourbons also funded the foundation of many new cities in the Georgian region of Florida, such as the city of Tampa, which was founded in 1849 and would grow to become one of the largest cities in the region of Florida, as well as in the wild and untamed region of Mississippi that was gained through the Louisiana Purchase. On a less positive note, the Bourbons also funded military expeditions by both the Georgian Army and Private Mercenaries against the numerous native tribes of the region, with the tribesman often being slaughtered, sent to poorly maintained reservations or being forced to flee into neighboring Texas, much to the annoyance of the Texan government.
    It should be noted that similarly to many other European immigrants that came to Georgia, the Spanish Bourbons began to harbor racist views against African-Americans, an attitude that many immigrants, be they Germans, Frenchmen, Italians, Scotsmen, Welshmen, Irishmen, Dutchmen, Spaniards, Swiss, Portuguese, Jews, Scandinavians, Greeks or Slavs, among others, unfortunately adopted in an effort to “fit-in” with the mostly White Anglo-Saxon Protestant/White Anglo-Southron Protestant society of Georgia. This was also the case when it came to immigrants in Virginia, Maryland and Carolina. It should also be noted that the Bourbon Family began to make a fortune on the Transatlantic Slave Trade during the late 1820s and 1830s. All of this came to an end on May 1, 1839 when Caesar Napoleon II and delegates from all major nations in the western world signed the Proclamation of Trianon, signed at the Grand Trianon palace near the Palace of Versailles, which officially banned the international slave trade amongst all its signatories. After the Proclamation of Trianon, the Spanish Bourbons had seen their personal finances in the slave trade completely drain, as their large personal fleet of slavers stationed out of New Orleans had kept the South supplied for years until the trade was banned.

    In the mid-1850s, tragedy would once again strike the Bourbon family. In the summer of 1856, Francis, Duke of Cádiz was on an important business trip in the Republic of Jamaica for the Tampa-based shipping company Hardee and Sons, founded by Seminole Wars veteran William J. Hardee and largely funded by the Duke of Cadiz’s money. While on this trip, Francis contracted malaria, and he spent a number of weeks convalescing in his hotel room in Kingston. However, it was all for naught, as on August 14, 1856, Francis, Duke of Cádiz died of the disease at the age of 38. His body was sent back to St. Augustine and, after his funeral, was buried in a privately owned cemetery. The death of her dearly beloved husband left Princess Isabella absolutely devastated, and her never really emotionally recovered. For the last year of her life, she wore all black and seldom appeared at public events. On December 2, 1857, Princess Isabella, Matriarch of the Spanish Bourbons, died of tuberculosis in the Bourbon Family Mansion in New Orleans at the age of 38. As a result, the 21 year-old Prince Alfonso Bourbon, known to Bourbonists as King Alfonso XII, became the new patriarch of the Bourbon Family.

    Prince Alfonso Bourbon, photographed in New Orleans in 1858

    With the outbreak of the Great American War, Prince Alfonso wrote a letter to Georgian Prime Minister George Bonaparte Towns and volunteered to raise a brigade of infantrymen for the Georgian Army. Within days, Prime Minister Towns responded via a letter and enthusiastically supported the idea. Thus, Alfonso began to raise the Bourbon Brigade out of Georgian army offices and recruiting stations in New Orleans. This unit was founded and led by the Bourbon Family and the former aristocracy of Bourbon Spain, with Alfonso as leader of the Brigade. It has even been claimed by some historians that in return for his services and money, the Georgian government promised to back a campaign by the Bourbons to seize Mexico and create a “Kingdom of Spain-in-Exile.” Throughout the long winter of 1858-1859, Alfonso began recruiting “every brigand and reprobate he could find in the gutters and overflowing prisons of New Orleans”, in the words of one local newspaper. Some called his forces the “Pirate Army”, because many of the troops in the brigade were former pirates and sea rovers active in the Gulf of Mexico and Caribbean.

    George Bonaparte Towns

    Throughout the Great American War, the Bourbon Brigade took place in a number of major battles and campaigns against the army of the Republican Union. In spite of this impressive war record, while he was leader of the Bourbon Brigade, Alfonso became one of the worst war criminals of the Great American War, second only to the infamous Heinrich Wirz. For example, the brigade was called to arms in May, 1859 to crush a slave revolt along the Mississippi, with the brigade at 15,000 men strong. The brigade crushed the revolt was alarming and brutal efficiency, rounding up and executing the leadership of the rebellion and whipping the supporters senseless while marching them back to New Orleans and throwing them in “Hotel Bourbon” the oldest and largest prison in the city, formerly known as “St. Laurens Penitentiary” before Alfonso was put in charge of the prison by the Georgian government. During Alfonso’s time in charge of Hotel Bourbon, numerous war crimes and human rights abuses occurred against both Union POWs and rebellious slaves at the hands of the would-be monarch. Even after the fall of New Orleans, Alfonso would still be in charge of Georgian efforts to handle prisoners of war and escaped slaves.

    New Orleans, photographed in 1855

    With the Republican Union’s advance on the armies of the Republic of Georgia during the Battle of New Orleans, Prince Alfonso Bourbon eventually became Chief of Staff of the Georgian armies. In spite of all his efforts, he could not turn the tides of the war in the favor of Georgia. While he hoped for Georgia to at least remain independent with its pre-1836 borders after making peace with the Union, even that would not be possible. Towards the end of the war in 1860, Prime Minister Towns was barely holding the country together while Prince Alfonso struggled to restrain the revolting slave population while still fending off incursions from General McClellan.

    After the Great American War, with the defeat and annexation of Georgia at the hands of the Republican Union of President Abraham Lincoln, the Bourbon Family had to flee from their homeland once again. In January, 1861, Prince Alfonso and the Bourbon family, along with Prime Minister Towns, fled the Georgian capital of Atlanta in a large horse-drawn carriage. After reaching Tampa, the Bourbons and Prime Minister Towns boarded a privately owned sloop and then managed to dodge Union patrols in the Gulf of Mexico. The Bourbon Family and Towns then fled to the Mexican Republic, one of the largest Spanish-speaking countries in Latin America. To be more specific, they fled to the city of San Pedro Sula in the Mexican state of Honduras. Prince Alfonso and the Bourbon Family spent the next few years living throughout the Central American states of Mexico, all the while Prince Alfonso was secretly attempting to ignite a monarchist revolution against the Mexican government, and he did so by meeting with and funding numerous conservative groups in Mexico, promising to support them and their interests if he ever came to power. Meanwhile, Towns bought a large mansion on the outskirts of Managua, Nicaragua, Mexico, where he died on July 15, 1863 at the age of 62.

    Flag of the Mexican Republic

    The Mexican Republic had long been close economic allies with the Southron Republics, and with their collapse the Republic itself was experiencing large-scale economic and social turmoil. Thus, on January 24, 1865, the Mexican Civil War broke out between Republicans, led by Jesús González Ortega, Beutelists led by Juan Cortina, and monarchists led by Prince Alfonso Bourbon. The Bank of Georgia, run by Southron exiles and secretly based in the city of San Luis Potosí, was now storing the funds of the entire Bourbon dynasty, and these funds were used to fund the Monarchist war effort. As a result of these funds and Southron gold, as well as exiled Southron commanders and volunteers, the monarchists of Prince Alfonso quickly gained the upper hand in the Mexican Civil War. On April 28, 1866, after a months-long siege, Prince Alfonso and his armies captured Mexico City and then declared the Kingdom of Mexico, with Prince Alfonso declaring himself as Alfonso I, King of the Mexicans. Thus, the Mexican Civil War, brief yet bloody, was over, and both Jesús González Ortega and Juan Cortina were executed for treason soon afterwards. An initial impulse by Alfonso to declare himself “King of True Spain” was rightfully advised against by both his family and advisers, as it would have likely caused the Franco-Spanish Empire to launch an invasion of Mexico by land through the Kingdom of California and by sea from Franco-Spanish Saint-Domingue/Santo Domingo and Puerto Rico. The new Kingdom of Mexico was largely funded by the Bank of Georgia, which then became the Bank of Mexico, and many of the richest former slavers of the Southern Planter Elite fled to Mexico after Alfonso proclaimed the Kingdom of Mexico, thus making the kingdom an even richer country. In spite of this, the only the rich, upper classes of Mexico, including the Bourbon dynasty, the new nobility, the landowners and the exiled Southron Elite, were doing well, while the poor, consisting of mostly mestizo and indigenous Mexicans, suffered greatly. Sadly, the issues that plagued the Mexican nation before the Mexican-American War were never resolved.

    Jesús González Ortega

    Juan Cortina, the Mexican Beutel
    Nevertheless, King Alfonso I was not happy enough simply being King of Mexico, as his ego simply couldn’t come to terms with such a title. Thus, on June 19, 1867, King Alfonso I crowned himself as Emperor Alfonso I of Mexico, Emperor of the Mexicans in a large-scale and elaborate ceremony in Mexico City Metropolitan Cathedral. Towards the end of the ceremony, Alfonso even took the crown from Pelagio Antonio de Labastida y Dávalos, Archbishop of Mexico City, and placed the crown on his head in imitation of Caesar Napoleon I at his coronation in 1804. With that, the Second Mexican Empire was established with support from the old Southron political and planter elite. In the subsequent years, propaganda from the Mexican government portrayed the Second Mexican Empire as a more legitimate state than the first Mexican Empire of the Mad Emperor Agustín de Iturbide, as the Bourbons were the dynasty that ruled Spain when Mexico rebelled against Spanish rule. However, much of the Mexican population resented the new royal elite of the nation and was not convinced by such propaganda.

    Pelagio Antonio de Labastida y Dávalos

    Flag of the Kingdom of Mexico and the Second Mexican Empire

    The Second Mexican Empire and the Bourbon rule in Mexico ended as a result of the Mexican-American War and the Immolation of Mexico in 1886. On July 2, 1886, after the American conquest of Central America and much of western medico, the Spanish, Georgian and Mexican Bourbon dynasty and family boarded a Mexican navy ship, the MRM Jalisco [6], in Acapulco, Guerrero and set sail for an unknown destination. They escaped at the right time, as Mexico would be completely conquered by the Republican Union after just a few months. Although it wouldn’t come out until several years after the fact, the Bourbons, abroad the Mexican nay ship MRM Jalisco, headed for the Kingdom of Hawaii. Within a few weeks, the MRM Jalisco docked in Honolulu, with the Bourbon Family and Dynasty being secretly given safe harbor by the Hawaiian King Kalākaua. Soon afterwards, the Bourbons settled in a large apartment building in the European Quarter of Honolulu, a part of the city settled and developed by European and American merchants, traders, industrialists and landowners.

    Kalākaua, also known as David Kalākaua
    While the Bourbons were exiled in Honolulu, they gradually became well acquainted with the European and American residents and business class of Hawaii, as well as the Hawaiian Royal Family, albeit under a low profile, and they did not want news of their whereabouts to be known by the wider world. Still, over a few years, Prince Alfonso gradually became a recluse and suffered from sporadic yet severe bouts of depression. There were instances where he would not leave his apartment for weeks at a time. On the night of October 15, 1890, Prince Alfonso Bourbon, alias Alfonso XII of Spain and Alfonso I of Mexico, committed suicide in his nightclothes with a gunshot to the head in much the same the as the grandfather he never met did so. He was only fifty-four years of age. He never married and never had any children, but throughout his life he had a number of romantic relationships and even some alleged illegitimate children in both Georgia and Mexico. A private funeral was held amongst the members of the Bourbon Family, after which Alfonso was buried in a modest grave in the Cathedral Basilica of Our Lady of Peace of Honolulu.

    After the suicide of Alfonso, his cousin Carlos Maria Bourbon became the new patriarch of the Bourbon Family and Dynasty, with his known to Bourbonist followers calling him Charles V or Carlos V of Spain. In spite of this, he himself never ventured to claim the throne of Spain. He never even called himself a Prince and he even stated privately; “I was born in Georgia, and was forced to flee as a child, where I grew up in Mexico, after which I became a refugee again. I have never been to Spain, and while my ancestral homeland holds a deep place in my heart, and while I wish I could visit Spain someday, the crown of Spain can belong to the Bonaparte’s for all I care.”

    Carlos Maria Bourbon
    After getting bored of life in Hawaii, the Bourbon family under Carlos Maria Bourbon decided to leave for another land. Carlos Maria Bourbon then decided that the Bourbons would try and seek refuge in the Republic of Peru. The Bourbons then boarded the MRM Jalisco and set course for the city of Santiago in the region of Chile in Peru. Not long after the MRM Jalisco docked unannounced in the ports of Santiago, Manuel Baquedano, President of Peru, offered the Bourbons exile in the Republic of Peru. However, in an effort to not end up provoking the anger of both the Empire of Europa and the Republican Union of America, he had the Bourbon Family come into Peru under a low profile and forbade them from living in any major city in the nation. Thus, the Bourbons settled in a small mansion on the outskirts of the city of Arica in the Antofagasta region of Peru, where they would not be harassed by both politicians and diplomats alike.

    Manuel Baquedano

    After the Bourbon family settled down in Arica, its members kept a low profile in an effort to prevent provoking the wrath of agents from Europa and the Republican Union. Some Bourbons, including Carlos Maria Bourbo, even lived reclusive lives away from the public. With the dawn of the Twentieth Century, the future of the Spanish Bourbons became all the more uncertain. Carlos Maria Bourbon died of natural causes on July 22, 1915 at the age of 67, and his eldest son Carlos Jamie Enrique Bourbon, born in 1882 and known to Bourbonists as Charles VI or Carlos VI, became the new patriarch of the family, and he continued to patriarch all the way into the 1930s. In fact, even in the 1930s, the fate of the Spanish Bourbons was still largely unknown to the general public of Europe and the Americas, and their fate became the subject of numerous articles, adventure novels and pulp magazines published throughout Europe.

    Carlos Jamie Enrique Bourbon


    [1] IOTL, King Phillip V of Spain abdicated from the throne in January, 1724 under mysterious circumstances, and his son became King Louis I of Spain. However, Louis I died in August, 1724 after only seven months on the throne at the age of seventeen. ITTL, this Phillip V never abdicated in 1724, although his son as Prince of Asturias still died in August, 1724. This shows that this universe is a parallel universe and not a divergent universe, as has been stated by Napoleon53 himself.

    [2] IOTL this daughter would be stillborn and said unsuccessful birth would lead to the Queen's death. However, ITTL the daughter is born and the Queen lives. Furthermore, King Ferdinand VII does not marry Maria Josepha Amalia of Saxony in 1819 or Maria Christina of the Two Sicilies in 1829.

    [3] Just like IOTL, Thomas Bruce, 7th Earl of Elgin was also famous IITL for his rescue of the “Elgin Marbles”, originally a part of the Parthenon, from Ottoman Greece from 1801 to 1812. IITL, again just like IOTL, the Elgin Marbles were placed in the British Museum in London, and they remained there even after the fall of the United Kingdom.

    [4] OTL's Princess Luisa Carlotta of Naples and Sicily was born on October 24, 1804.

    [5] OTL's Francis, Duke of Cádiz was born on May 13, 1822.

    [6] Marina Real Mexicana.
  11. Murica1776 Building an American Tomorrow

    Jun 22, 2016
    Part 2! I don't have a definite number of updates planned, just because there's so much you can do with this!


    Belmont High School faces off against Massachusetts State High, 1932

    September 8th, 1933
    Today was a big day for Bobby Johnson. Not only did he have his big History report due, but tryouts for fisticuffs were today. Word around school was that Anthony Miller was preparing to tryout for the sole purpose of beating Bobby after his humiliation at the start of the school year. While it was unlikely such a win would put him back in his spot as one of the school's top bullies, it would at least give him some kind of standing back. Bobby did not intend for that to happen. He was two weeks into the school year and things were going well. They would continue to do so.

    First, his History report. This was a crucial grade for him. He had to apply what he had learned about the Strong Man Theory and argue that Andy Jackson was a real Strong Man, and what his impacts were. He had 5 minutes to do this in front of the whole class. Fortunately, history was his forte. He was a good student in general, but he had never scored below an A- in history, and he didn't intend to start now. He had all of this in mind as he filed into class. The first several projects were, predictably, on Joe Steele. Then, Custer, Lincoln, Washington, and Churchill. Anthony Miller did his on Julius Caesar, and made direct eye contact with Bobby when he discussed how Caesar had capturing and executing the pirates who held him captive was proof of his "Pinnacle Fluidation." Subtle, Bobby thought. A couple other folks did presentations on Augustus and Cromwell. Finally, it was his turn. He stood at the front of the class, and placed a small portrait of Chancellor Jackson on the chalkboard.

    "My fellow classmates, thank you for your attention. I promise to keep this presentation short and sweet, just like my momma. Chancellor Andrew Jackson, Father of the Confederation, was without a doubt a Strong Man of the highest order. More than any other figure, Jackson built Carolina. The Republican Union was founded by a collection of noble men who resisted Federalist tyranny. Virginia and Georgia were founded by devils in Southron clothing, who desired only power. But no nation on this continent at the time was the product of a single man. Except Carolina. Chancellor Jackson founded a whole nation, and held it together through sheer charisma and willpower. That's a feat that proves his Pinnacle Fluidation. He also fought nobly against the Canadians, albeit too slowly to properly aid our Northern allies. Nonetheless, he fought, and fought nobly. He resisted Popish tyranny in the events that led to the War of Virginian Aggression, defying Napoleon the so-called "Great." He led his men into battle even at his old age, and he died a warrior's death, fit for the heroes of Sparta and Rome. Carolina as we know it today exists because of this man. Using the power of his Fluids and the brilliance God gave him, Andy Jackson built a nation from scratch, one which still survives today. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why he was a true Strong Man. I pray he smiles upon my speech from his Celestial Plantation. Hark the Sound."

    A round of applause ensued, as it had for all the other well prepared presentations. Mr. Gray nodded approvingly at him. Bobby smiled, and said a prayer to Almighty God for his success. The last presentation, an incredibly thorough examination of the Strong Man attributes of Colonel Goodyear, was one Bobby found quite interesting. Goodyear was the reason he was up here in Yankeeland at all, so he was interested in the man who founded the company that employed his father. He had a quick discussion about the topic with Mr. Gray about the topic, and he lent Bobby a copy of Titan of Industry: The Official Biography of Colonel Goodyear I.

    In Chemistry, Bobby and his lab partner Reginald made dynamite. He and Reggie had a grand old time, managing to chat about Rounders while they worked. Then came Adv. Algebra, Bobby's least favorite topic. He was competent enough to get by, but it was just a bit too tedious for his liking. He managed to grind through it well enough, and it was soon time for lunch.

    He sat down at his new usual table. Although Vera had continued to condescend to him, she insisted that he would sit at her table. Even the way she did that was condescending. He still heard her telling him "Oh Robert, you must sit with me so you can know the correct people. Otherwise, you'll probably wind up with some unsophisticated bunch who don't have the Strongest Fluids, and that will make you look like an outcast yourself. This is all rather simple, even for a Cokie. Really, must I teach you everything?" He had said something smart in response and gotten a death glare for his trouble. Still, he wound up complying and sat right next to her at a big table in the middle of the cafeteria. Sitting with Vera and him were the Shay twins (who he still thought were strange), Archibald Lodge, the school's fisticuffs captain, Ella Cooper, the head cheerleader, Johnny Lindstrom, the Rounders, tennis, and swim captain, Charlotte Fay, Vera's fencing co-captain, and 5 other guys and gals. Between them this people at this table were prominent in or the head of all the school's athletic teams, the student government, and the school's drama program. There were 3 All-Americans at that table. Furthermore, everyone at that table (aside from Bobby) was a son or daughter of one of Belmont, MA's Prominent Families. In Fascist talk, he was sitting at a table full of real Pinnacle Boys and Girls. In practical terms, he had stumbled into the popular crowd, the crew that held sway over all.

    He felt rather awkward at his lunch table. He wasn't really one of them. He didn't have any of their accomplishments or pedigree. He didn't have the aura of effortless authority one can only earn from being a natural born aristocrat. He wasn't from a Prominent Family. He was Bobby Johnson of North Carolina, a scrappy Cokie kid. However, they liked him well enough, and vice versa. Vera always made him sit next to her, and would sometimes lecture him if he said something "overbearingly Carolinian." That had mostly died down after he yelled "Hark the Sound" to prove a point though. Archibald (preferred to go by Archie) sat down across from him and asked "So, Bobby, you think you're ready for tryouts this afternoon?"

    Bobby nodded "Yes sir I am. I ain't stopped practicing since Principal Carruthers told me to try out. I'm sure I'll make the team."

    "I'm sure you will too. I saw you give that Miller miscreant his just desserts. You have a knack for knocking people out." He laughed at his own joke, and Bobby joined in.

    "I might not be the biggest fella, but I have speed. That's what'll make me a different kind of fighter from most of the boys on the team. They got size but no speed."

    It was Archie's turn to nod "That's the truth right there old sport. Heck, Mr. Gray even said that. You know your stuff!"

    Bobby looked up awkwardly "I may have watched some tapes of our matches at the town library. Not tryin to brown nose or some such, just trying to be prepared."

    Another jovial chuckle from Archie. "Heck Johnson, I didn't even prepare that much for my tryouts, and my family's been on this team for generations. You're gonna do fine."

    The rest of the table gradually shuffled over and took seats. Like always, a pleasant rhythm of conversation asserted itself. At first, the talk was about some kind of gossip about a girl named Ethel that he had never met. Soon, the topic shifted back to fisticuffs tryouts. Ella crooned over Archie, her beloved boyfriend, and proclaimed "This year, we're gonna get that Silver Glove! It's inevitable with my Archiekins at the helm."

    Charlotte said "Hey Bobby, aren't you trying out too?"

    Feeling awkward, Bobby responded "Yes ma'am I am."

    All the girls at the table, excepting Vera, giggled. Charlotte replied between giggles, "Yes ma'am, oh my gosh! Bobby, your politeness is adorable."

    He felt a smile coming on, one which died when he saw Vera staring at him hard enough to make his head explode. Or at least it would have in a comic book. She snapped "Alright ladies, enough giggling. We have to start planning the pep rally once the new team is selected. Ideas?"

    The giggles stopped. Charlotte said "Geez Vera, no need to be so serious. The pep rally isn't for another couple weeks. We'll be fine."

    "That's easy for you to say Charlotte. I actually run the student government here, so I know what all has to go into it."

    Ella stepped in before matters escalated "Ok girls, let's calm down. I have a deal for you V. We'll get right to work if you answer one question."

    She sighed, "What in Jehovah's most Holy name do you want to ask me?"

    She gave a knowing look to everyone else at the table, then said "Are you going to watch your young Cokie charge tryout for the team?"

    "I beg your pardon?"

    "Oh come on V. He follows you around like a cute little freshman puppy. Listens to you like one too most of the time, no offense Bobby. "Robert, don't use that language." "Robert, we drink Sweet Victory, and so will you." "Robert, we smoke Firebreathers, not Chancellor Jackson's." Still surprised you lost that cigarette fight by the way V, you do always win after all."

    "Is there a point you're trying to get to E? Perhaps I could draw you a map if you're so lost getting there."

    "Take it easy V. Look, all I'm saying is, if you went it could help him out. Moral support and all. Plus you'd get a chance to see his... she paused for comedic effect and made her tone much more sultry, Pinnacle Fluids... in action. Nothing like a good old-fashioned beatdown to get the blood pumping, know what I'm sayin?"

    Both Bobby and Vera were bright red at this point. Their tablemates were, of course, laughing uproariously. Vera pounded her fist on the table and said "Was this a legitimate question, or are you just getting back at me for that stupid water balloon prank on the 4th of July?"

    The laughter refused to die down for another minute or so. Finally, Archie was calm enough to respond "Ella ran this idea by me yesterday and I think it was a bit of both Vera. But in all seriousness you should show up for Bobby. I know his mom can't make it because his sister Alice got the flu two days ago. Having someone there to cheer you on really does make a difference. Plus, that sonuvabitch Anthony Miller is trying out, pardon my French, and you know Coach Gray is going to have them face off again. At the very least, do it to make up for the amount of grief you put him through. Jehovah above, you nag him more than my mom nags my dad. Also, you don't know about the Miller thing."

    Regaining her composure, Vera retorted "I might deign to go to this event if you bunch of heathens help me plan this pep rally. I need ideas people!"

    Bobby wanted to question Archie about the fact that Anthony Miller was trying out, but knew he probably couldn't get anything out of him. Instead, he just finished his lunch and helped plan the pep rally with Vera and the gang. He also became very self conscious of how close they were sitting and moved away a little bit. He would never wind up with that pain in the ass Yankee broad! Although, he did wonder why he found it so hard to scoot away from her. Chairs were probably heavy. Yep.

    His English class flew by, and he barely paid attention. He was steeling himself for the tryouts to come, and his next confrontation with Anthony Miller. They'd been engaged in a hostile truce for two weeks, but now the knives were coming back out. It was time to end this feud once and for all. He practically ran out of English towards the fisticuffs gymnasium, and changed into his athletic shorts and t-shirt. It was time for him to claim his rightful place on the team.

    He weighed in at 5'9", 170lbs. That put him in the high end of the middleweight class. Coach Gray gathered the boys around, "Alright gentlemen, good afternoon. As you all know, I am Coach Alton Gray, head of of the Belmont High Fighting Cavalrymen. I am here to determine who amongst you is a boy, and who is a Strong Man. Perform well, and show yourselves to be of Strong Fluidation, and I will take you under my wing. Perform poorly, and I can give you a recommendation for a wonderful ballet teacher, so you might learn a sport more suited to your sensibilities. Now, enough chatter. Break and All Hail!"

    The boys scurried off to their designated rings. Bobby went up first, against a scrawny fella Denton Van Daal. It was almost sad how quick the fight was, although the kid got in a couple decent hits before Bobby knocked him off. Their was a brief pause after this "elimination round," designed to cull those that Coach Gray deemed those likely to be the weakest contenders by putting them up against a strong one. This allowed people to file in to watch, and a crowd of rowdy parents, friends, and girlfriends soon populated the stands. Everyone from his table except, Archie, and another guy on the team named Benedict Arnold Hall was in the stands. He waved to Vera, who pretended not to notice. Now, the real fighting would begin as the first round of tryouts started. Bobby did what most people expected him too, and dispatched his opponents methodically over the next hour while taking minimal damage himself. Anthony Miller was also doing well for himself, and Bobby got the sinking suspicion that he would make the team.

    Principal Carruthers showed up shortly after the second round of tryouts had begun. He whispered something to Coach Gray, who nodded affirmative and then told his assistant something.

    Two hours in, and it was the final round. Bobby again stood triumphant over his foes, and so did an increasingly angry Anthony. Right as it seemed the tryouts were going to end, Coach Gray stood in the heavyweight ring and grabbed the microphone.

    "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please. As you know, we have two undefeated fighters here tonight, Anthony Miller and Bobby Johnson. However, as I'm sure many of you also know, they have quite a negative relationship with one another. We cannot allow that to affect unit cohesion. So, we're going to hold a 3 round lightning match between these gents. The loser is off the team! The winner stays! May the Strongest Man win!"

    There was an uproar from the crowd. Those who supported Bobby feared that the restraints of the rules in fisticuffs would spell Bobby's doom at the hands of the 6'2", 220 lbs Miller. Miller's few supporters had already seen Bobby dispatch their Goliath in the halls of the school, or heard about it from their children. The result was a crowd that was screaming its head off in a frenzy.

    Bobby and Anthony both stepped into the ring. Bobby muttered a quiet prayer. He wasn't sure he could do this, but he had to try. Coach Gray announced the start of the match, and the bell was rung. Immediately, Miller got a right hook in on Bobby. Seeing stars, he used his speed to get away and refocus. He charged Miller and gave him some good body blows, knocking the wind out of him. Miller hit Bobby right back and knocked him flat on his butt. He managed to get up, but this was shaping up to be much harder than either anticipated. Round 1 ended with neither at a distinct advantage.

    Round 2 started after a short water break, and Miller got in another good hit on Bobby. Bobby got knocked down again. After getting up, Miller hit him in the head again. Bobby managed to shake it off and recoup, getting in another solid body hit on Miller. Nonetheless, Miller was clearly in the lead this round, especially after another 1-2 combo knocked Bobby on the ground again. Bobby made it to the bell, and tried to pull himself together. He was bleeding, and his right eye was swollen. Believe it or not, its a lot harder to fight a man if you aren't allowed to knee him in the plums. Looking up from his water, he saw a clearly enraged Vera screaming what he was pretty sure was an obscenity at Anthony Miller, implying he might like to have relations with his mother. Seeing her, and everyone else go crazy for him, gave Bobby new energy. He was going to win dammit.

    Round 3 began, and while things looked bad last round, it had helped in one way. Miller had tired himself out trying to one-punch knockout Bobby. His blows were strong, but he was relatively slower than Bobby and using that much force had expended his energy. His big advantage had been, and still was, his extended reach. Freshly energized from seeing his supporters, Bobby had caught second wind. He got up close to Miller, and started wailing on him. The tired heavyweight was incapable of properly responding. Anytime he tried to get further out so he could use his reach advantage, Bobby would almost cling to his torso. With the round nearing the end, Bobby pulled out his coup. Mustering all his might, he gave Anthony Miller a savage uppercut, followed by a right hook to the jaw. It worked. Miller went down. The hated bully had finally been brought low.

    The crowd erupted. Coach Gray held up the exhausted Bobby Johnson and proudly proclaimed him "One of the new Pinnacle Men on your Belmont Fighting Cavalrymen's Fisticuffs Team!" Principal Carruthers gave a satisfied smile. Just as I suspected, he thought to himself, that Johnson boy has strong Fluidation. I figured he would after reviewing his father's military records. He will be a great asset to me and this school.

    Bobby's lunchtime buddies, including his new captain and Vera, stormed down and put him on their shoulders. They presented him to the assembled students, parents, and faculty and Archie screamed "ALL HAIL BOBBY JOHNSON, PINNACLE MIDDLEWEIGHT OF BELMONT HIGH!"

    "ALL HAIL! ALL HAIL! ALL HAIL!" came the fevered response.

    Bobby got off of his friends' shoulders and greeted the feverish crowd. It took 40 minutes, but eventually they had dispersed. Archie said "Call your mom, you're eating with us tonight at Hatheway's diner, on me. You're one of us Johnson."

    Bobby did exactly that, and judging by the hoots and hollers he heard on the other end of the line, his mom was quite proud of him for making the team. He then caught up with his lunch friends (he guessed they really were his friends now) and they went off to Hatheway's. Vera walked next to him on the way over.

    With an insufferable grin, he said "I told you I could beat Miller again Vera."

    "Yes you did Robert. You were right, I was wrong."

    Bobby let out a loud whoop that made everyone turn and stare. He said "Y'ALL AIN'T GONNA BELIEVE THIS! THE. VERA. STARK! JUST ADMITTED SHE WAS WRONG!"

    The whole crowd, even Vera, burst out into laughter. "Mark your calendar Robert, I'm not wrong often."

    Giving an exaggerated bow, Bobby declared "Why of course fair madam of Belmont. In fact, this chivalrous Southron boy will do more than that! I shall pay for an annual parade and a grand show of illuminations the likes of which Yankeeland has never done seen! Anything to mark this momentous occasion!"

    Another peal of laughter from Vera. "I'll hold you to that Robert."

    The dim glow of Hatheway's beckoned in the distance, and the hungry gang started speed walking towards their destination. They almost ran inside and saw Mr. Hatheway, the kindly old owner of the diner. "What'll you young guys and gals be havin?"

    Archie spoke "Mr. Hatheway, my friend and I here will be having the double xtra large cheeseburger with Keybeck Fries and Sweet Victory!"

    "Good choice gentlemen!"

    Mr. Hatheway took everyone else's orders, and they grabbed a large table in the middle of the diner. Everyone sat roughly where they would at lunch, meaning Vera was right next to Bobby again.

    Bobby turned to her as everyone broke off into their own conversations "I was kinda surprised to see you there. Figured you would want to spare yourself the teasing."

    "They sort of forced me into it. Not that it was boring or bad or anything! Just not my initial plan. Plus, they would make those absurdly counterfactual jokes whether or not I went."

    He nodded "I'm sure they would. So, what's this big pep rally we have going on?"

    Her face lit up as she started describing the pep rally, its meaning to the school, and what it would mean to her to make it work since as a sophmore student body president, she's the youngest student body president in the school's history. Bobby just sat and listened intently. She really was quite excited about the whole thing. Their food arrived to interrupt her ramblings, and Bobby led everyone in a Presbyterian prayer before they ate.

    Bobby devoured his food. Hatheway's really was incredible. It might not be down-home Cokie food, but it was still damn good. Juicy burgers, delectable fries, and sweet, sweet Victory. After devouring their food, the gang hung out a little longer before going their separate ways. Vera lived a couple streets over from Bobby, so they walked together.

    "So, Vera, what did you think of my fighting?"

    She looked at him with suspicion "Why do you ask?"

    "No reason. Guess I just wanted another opinion."

    She smiled. "Well, I'm happy you put that jackass back in his place. I guess its like Coach Gray said. You're... you're a Pinnacle Man Robert. Not that you should let that get to your head, you're still an ignoramus of the highest order."

    He rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever you say. Well, this is my street. Goodnight Vera."

    "Goodnight Robert."

    With that, the two parted ways for the evening.
    Last edited: Nov 9, 2019
  12. Sunstone77 Well-Known Member

    Jun 19, 2018
    Kids these days. All they want to do is see each others Fluidation and Pinnacles!

    Seriously though, great work. Glad to see high school drama is alive and well even in the world of Madness.
    Murica1776 and Time Enough like this.
  13. farmerted555 Well-Known Member

    Oct 8, 2015
    I second that! After all, the Madnessverse can't be just Steele purging the Church or Oswald nuking a city because someone sneezed in his presence. You need some genuine lightheartedness sprinkled in here and there.
  14. Murica1776 Building an American Tomorrow

    Jun 22, 2016
    Glad y'all are enjoying it! I'm also happy that I have been able to keep the Madness as kind of a background feature. The Fascism is in the backdrop. There will be moments where it'll be more obvious how screwed up the Union is, but I set out with the intention of "No big government shenanigans." This is about the people and drama, lol. The Principal is a slight exception, as you'll see he has a secret agenda, but it's small town petty Fascist stuff, not Patton or Steele level.
  15. dakkafex get a load of this pretentious fuck

    Feb 11, 2012
    Long Connecticut
    Speaking of high-school fascism, are you familiar with the 'Third Wave' experiment? It might be a useful point of reference for the story you're putting together.
  16. Murica1776 Building an American Tomorrow

    Jun 22, 2016
    I am indeed! I might wind up using it, I'm not totally sure.
    Born in the USSA likes this.
  17. Zoidberg12 Well-Known Member

    Nov 7, 2012
    New Jersey, U.S.A.
    Here's my first short story for this thread. The first part is actually taken from a short story that I wrote for the original Madnessverse Expanded Universe thread, but with some things changed and edited and others added for good measure. The biggest differences are that in this version of the Madnessverse, Charles Goodyear II is married to a different woman and has no children unlike in the original. The other parts of the story were added to make the story feel more complete and so that the story would not just be left on a cliffhanger.

    Anyways, enjoy!

    Monday, December 10th, 1905
    Shicagwa, Iowai, Republican Union of America



    It was exactly one o'clock on a cold and cloudy afternoon in Shicagwa, the hustling and bustling metropolis of the midwestern Republican Union. Charles Goodyear II leaned back calmly in the red velvet-cushioned chair at his desk in his luxurious office at Colonel Goodyear Enterprises headquarters, smoking a Sumatran cigar. On the wall behind him was a portrait of his father, painted back in '82 by Allan Pinkerton, the famous Scotch painter, God bless his soul. To his immediate right were two busts, one of Willard Crawford and the other of the Prophet Aaron Burr II, both in Greco-Roman style togas, and a window overlooking the city of Shicagwa. Well, the good looking part anyways, certainly not the ghettos of the city. To his immediate right was a glass cabinet filled with Native American artifacts from the states of Chersonesus, Iowai, Dakota and Redemption, as well as the states in what was once Mexico, a framed reproduction of the Declaration of Independence, and a banner that belonged to a Mexican Infantry Battalion defeated at the Battle of Cozumel in 1886, a personal gift from President Custer for his 34th birthday back in 1899. To his front was a small couch for guests and over it a large painting depicting the Prophet Aaron Burr II's Martyrdom at Valley Forge, painted by an artist whose name escaped him at the moment. On his desk were a number of things both practical and decorative; a ball-point pen, a miniature globe, an ashtray, a golden clock adorned with an Eagle, a box of cigars (the one he was smoking came from that), a bell for his servants, a note pad, a statuette of General Wyatt Jenkins, a 1901 talkiebox, among others. The room was large and very ornate, with walls of red and gold, fancy oil lights and a a fireplace and mantel to his farther left as ornate as any found in the palaces of the much-hated House of Bonaparte.

    Charles Goodyear II looked at his pocket watch. "Ten more minutes until that damned appointment!" he thought harshly to himself. The multimillionaire CEO of Colonel Goodyear Enterprises then thought about other things. He remembered that fateful day that transpired five years ago to this day. Five years, half a decade had passed since that fateful day. The day his pops kicked the bucket. "Kicked the bucket? More like fell off a blimp a hundred something miles to his doom.", the younger Goodyear though smugly to himself once again. He knew he did the deed, but not another living soul knew, so what did it matter? Even if anyone did suspect something, he could always call on the friendly neighborhood ORRA man to come to the poor sap's house and arrest for him for slander, treason or something else like that. "Only me and Jehovah know, and I'm more than willing to answer to the big guy for what I did!"

    He remembered it all very well. He remembered being so many miles above the ground and above the great city of Boston. He remembered the conversation he had with his father. He remembered the argument he had with his father, and all the insults and screaming therein. He remembered when his almost century-old father had gotten up from his wheelchair with all of his might. He remembered when he slapped his father in his wrinkly face for calling his mother a whore. He remembered when his father punched him in the stomach in retaliation, after which he then punched his father, after which his father tried to push him and pin him down on the balcony. He remembered how he pushed his father back trying to do the same, but then it occurred to him, why not just push him off the balcony? He remembered how he pushed again, this time harder. His father fell back in his wheelchair, then he pushed again harder. The railing snapped as per the plan, and then his father fell to his death. His father's last utterances were nothing more than a continuous scream.

    When the whole thing was said and done, he was top dog of the one of the largest and most successful companies not only in the Republican Union of America, but also on earth. This was the same company that brought the Union out of the gutter and gave this ungrateful 20th century world so many of the innovations it's denizens were taking for granted. Yes, his father’s death has been quite convenient for the younger Goodyear. "Gotta hand to you Pops..." Goodyear whispered to himself and he looked behind him at his father's portrait and puffed out some smoke from his cigar. "You laid a great foundation for me to make something of myself". Goodyear knew he had done the right thing five years back, well, right for himself anyway. When he heard from Dr. Arnold Hansson, his father's personal physician, back in '99 that pops would likely live to be at least 110, he knew he couldn't just sit, lollygag and wait for doomsday any longer. He could still see the face of the good doctor in his memory; the big, bushy eyebrows, the round glasses and the handlebar mustache, each strand his hair all grayed from age. Not to mention, he could still hear his thick Swedish accent in his memory. Whatever happened to the good doctor since then? He didn't know and he didn't care to find out for obvious reasons.

    As Goodyear continued smoking and waiting for his appointment, a ring came from just outside the door. "Come in!" Goodyear shouted. His negro butler, the ever faithful Cicero Henderson, came in. "Mister Goodyear." he said rather eloquently. "Mister Garfield is running late. His autocarriage broke down outside of town." Goodyear pondered the matter over a second and that said; "Very well. Telegraph his company in Rockford, saying that if hes not here by three at the latest, the appointments off! I'm a busy, busy man!"

    "Your orders Sir." Cicero replied. He then left the room and closed the door. "James Garfield, that old man late to this appointment out of all of them?! That won't do at all!" Goodyear ranted to himself as he threw down his cigar in his ashtray and forcefully opened a right-side drawer, looking for some important papers. He found said papers, put them on his desk and turned on the talkiebox. "This is Gregory Hightower on Uncle Sam's TalkieBox Station, live from Philadelphia!" Goodyear started smoking his cigar again. "The time is 2:15 PM in Philadelphia and 1:15 PM in Shicagwa. Our show this afternoon is "King Lear", coming in thirty-five minutes, but first the National News! Two alleged Buetlists were arrested in Newburgh, New York for distributing seditious literature. The two men, James Crawford and Melvin Gibb, are currently in custody. Crawford and Gibb are alleged to have ran an underground Buetelist publishing house out of what was a local tavern owned by the both of them, at least before the whole business was shut down to be investigated by the ORRA. The employees of the tavern, mostly men from the local ghetto, were also detained for questioning by the ORRA. According to a new government report on the settlement of our newer states in the Union, at least a million Pinnacle men, woman and children have emigrated to the state of Oxacre since 1895, the last year such a report was undertaken. In Philadelphia this morning, President Custer had boarded an airship for...."

    Just then another ring came from just outside and Goodyear turned the talkiebox off. "Open up!"

    Cicero opened the door. He then walked over to Goodyear's desk and handed him a telegram. Goodyear took it from his servant and opened it up with a letter opener he had on his desk. "Good God!" he exclaimed. "Cicero, telegraph the Garfield Publishing Company in Rockford and tell them the apportionment with Mr. Garfield is postponed until tomorrow afternoon! Same time!" "Yes Sir." Cicero replied. He then left the room hastily, closing the door as he left.

    Goodyear threw the telegraph envelope into the nearby trash-bin and put the telegraph itself into a drawer. "Good God!" With that, he just sat in his chair and began to think the whole thing through.

    Within about twenty minutes, another knock came at the door. Cicero opened the door once more, and in came Anna Elizabeth Stephenson Goodyear, Charles' wife of almost fourteen years, wearing a fur coat, simple pink dress, large brimmed feathered hat, leather boots and white gloves. After looking around the room in awe for just a few seconds, this being a room she seldom had the opportunity to visit, as her husband was a very busy man, Anna whispered to Cicero; "I beg of you Cicero, some private time for us please." "Yes Misses Goodyear." he calmly replied. After that, Cicero left the room and gently closed the door behind Anna after which she then placed her fur coat and hat on the nearby coat rack.

    "Hello my darling!" Charles Goodyear II said as he got up from his seat, put down his cigar, walked to his loving wife and spread his arms, ready to embrace her, which he of course did. "Thank you Honey!" Alice said. She was a woman somewhat younger then Charles at just thirty-two years of age and was known both in and outside the Union for her beauty. She had long, bright blonde hair, glowing blue eyes, soft cheeks, bright red lips and a big and wide smile. Just before she could speak, Goodyear put his two fingers over her lips and softly said; "Not a word." He then went on; "Honey I have important business to attend too. Our President and Aetheling should be here within the hour."

    "George Armstrong Custer himself!? My hero as a little girl! Is this true!?" Anna exclaimed.

    "Yes my dear." He responded. "Yet, I beg you. Please leave this office. Please go to downstairs to the waiting room or return to the mansion. You can go into town and see a moving picture for all I care, but you cannot be here. This meeting is of the utmost importance and is supposed to be held in the utmost secrecy as per our President and Aetheling's own demands!"

    "Okay Honey. I trust what you say is true and not just some excuse to get me away from you." She paused and sighed to herself. "I just hope to God the governments not going to send you off to some exotic middle of nowhere again!"

    "Relax my dear, relax. You enjoyed our honeymoon in Grand Panama did you not? My darling, you got to see history made at just the tender age of nineteen when the Canal was opened up back in '92. Not to mention, you enjoyed both Nippon and Hawaii didn't you? Look at me dear, the clean air of Nippon and the hot sun of Hawaii did wonders for both of our Pinnacle Fluids and our overall energy and mental well-being. Why, after we returned to our glorious home, I truly felt more confident and energetic then I never had before in the entirety of my life!"

    "Yes. Yes. I did enjoy those places, and I can't lie, it did pleasure me to see our pinnacle civilization take dominance over and civilize all of those once-ungodly lands. Since you mention it, I did feel more personally invigorated after I returned to home from those locales."

    "See!" Goodyear responded happily. "Look, if I'm ever sent to one of our glorious Union's overseas or untamed lands, I'll talk to our President and Aetheling and other members of the government about it all. Still, do not be mistaken!" He said suddenly and harshly. "I'll go where ever and when ever I'm needed, be it the jungles of Cuba or the beaches of the Pacific Isles! If it wasn't for me spending all those years in Nippon and Hawaii, those godforsaken places would have taken much longer to submit to our divinely ordained and god-given rule!"

    "I understand Honey." Anna said harshly.

    "I know you do dear." Charles responded.

    "I trust that wherever you go and whatever you do, you do for the Divine Good of our Union and our Pinnacle Men and Pinnacle Women." Anna then said.

    "True. Very true. Anyways, as I was saying, I could arrange some things. Things such as a shorter stay wherever I'm sent, or if that isn't at all possible, a villa for us, just like the one that we had in Georgetown in Grand Panama."

    Alice looked awkwardly at her husband. Goodyear than said enthusiastically; "Whatever happens, we'll be ringing in nineteen-hundred and o'six in a nice, comfortable place, just like we do every New Years Day!"

    "I hope you're telling the damned truth this time! This better not be like Liberia back in '98 all over again! I couldn't stand to be without you!"

    "Calm down Dear! Who but our Lord even knows if this meeting is even about what we have been talking about. It could just be about my business endeavors and how they relate to the state or something of that nature. Look, whatever the case, we'll have to talk about this later!"

    "You have a point dear." Anna replied, having calmed down considerably. "All right, I'll go now. Good Luck with your meeting my love." With that, Anna Goodyear, put back on her fur coat and hat, left the room and then went downstairs to the waiting room. After his wife left the room, Goodyear walked slowly back his desk. He then sat in his chair, and began smoking his cigar once more. "Whatever he want's to see me about, this better be important, and if I know Custer, it will be!" he then thought to himself.


    Anna Goodyear sat in the waiting room, as she had for the last half-hour, reading a novel by Karl May, the famous Saxon-Nordsich author of numerous novels and adventure stories about the American West, many about the Republican Union, Manifest Destiny and the spread of the Pinnacle Civilization into wild and barbarian lands. The novel she was reading, entitled Into the Unknown, was about American westward expansion and settlement in the aftermath of the Louisiana Purchase of 1836. Much to her amazement, she had read at least a hundred pages in the last few hours, and the story had gripped her like few other stories could. Nevertheless, she felt that May's portrayal of the non-Pinnacle peoples bordered on making them seem too sympathetic for her tastes, and for the tastes of most other American bibliophiles. Still, May's novels touted the glories of the American Christian Pinnacle Civilization, so they were still beloved by many in the Union, even if they didn't portray the non-Pinnacle peoples of the world as one dimensional caricatures.

    The chair she was sitting in was right next to a window. She looked away from the book and out of the window. She then saw a large auto-carriage with the Seal of the Republican Union on its doors and the flags of the Union over its headlights drive up to the sidewalk just outside of the entrance to the building. Behind said auto-carriage were a number of other similar auto-carriages but with different emblems on their doors. Some were even in all black without any markings. She then saw a guard with a peaked Lemon-Squeezer hat walked out of the drivers seat and open up the door his own side. Out stepped a man wearing a large trench-coat, a black cavalrymen's hat, and what looked to be a gray suit with black bow-tie. The man was also wearing blackened spectacles over his eyes, and he had a long beard, long mustache and long locks of hair flowing down his head, all of a light blonde color. Other guards then poured out of the surrounded auto-carriages.

    "Yes. That's him alright." She thought. She had met him before on numerous occasions, so she could tell it was none other than George Armstrong Custer, President of the Republican Union of America and Aetheling of the Manifest Destiny Party. For a man who had just turned sixty-six years of age, he looked as vigorous and youthful as ever.

    "At least I know my husband is telling the truth and not gallivanting with some tart again." She thought to herself. She knew all too well that her husband had tastes in "exotic" women that most Americans would find absolutely unconscionable, as they believed relations with such women would ruin his Pinnacle fluids. She knew about every women he slept with, although she doubted he knew that she knew. She knew about Moira, Maria, Federica, Natalia and Danuta, among others, all maids and servants in their employ. She wanted to fire them, but she couldn't, not if she wanted her husband to know she knew the truth. That would open up a whole other can of worms. She just had to keep quiet.

    After clearing her mind of such distracting thoughts, she sat down again and returned to reading her novel.


    It was now six o'clock in the evening. As Anna was reading her novel, the door to the waiting room suddenly opened. She took her eyes of the book and turned her head. Just then, her husband, Charles Goodyear II himself, entered with a smile on his handsome and youthful-looking face. Anna put the book down on the table next to the chair she was sitting in and then ran to her husband and embraced him. "Honey. What did our President and Aetheling say to you during your meeting together!? I need not know everything, just what is important!"

    "Easy now, easy my dear." Charles said. "I can say this. I'm not leaving Shicagwa any time in the foreseeable future."

    Anna then cheered and kissed her husband on the lips. "Oh darling. I'm so happy. How shall we celebrate the occasion!"

    "Well, I'm not sure. I didn't anticipate such a thing would need to be celebrated." he replied. "I guess I have to decide on that. Maybe we'll go see a show and then go out to dinner at the best damn restaurant in town. Whatever you want my love, whatever you want."

    "Yes. I would enjoy that. I heard their doing a big performance of Wagner's The Ring of the Nibelung, at the opera-house downtown. I know its long, but I have always wanted to see that series of operas."

    "Then see them we shall my love!"

    "Yes, but answer me husband. What did you talk about with our great President and Aetheling?!"

    "Not much. Our great President and Aetheling believes that it is only a matter of time before a war breaks out with the Europans, Beckies and Canucks up north, and the Fornies out west. Thus, he simply requested that Colonel Goodyear Enterprises, with its numerous subsidies, contribute to a future war effort. This was of course an offer I could not refuse and I thus agreed enthusiastically."

    "War? Will it break out soon?"

    "No. No. No. Our great President and Aetheling has told me that his experts do not expect such a war to break out for at least another decade, so there is time to prepare."

    "Alright then. My mind is at ease."

    What that, the Goodyears embraced for one more time in that small, cramped waiting room. Some minutes later, Charles and Anna, the former wearing an Ulster and Bowler Hat, both got into their fancy new auto-carriage. "Take us to the mansion Donahue!" Charles shouted to his Irish chauffeur. "Yes Master!" he replied subserviently in a consciously subdued accent. With that, the jet-black auto-carriage spurted to life and drove off into the crowded and busy streets of Shicagwa. A few seconds later, it began to snow lightly throughout the city, but that didn't hinder the auto whatsoever.


    It was just an hour before midnight in Shicagwa, and on the outskirts of the city was the Goodyear Mansion, the main residence of Charles Goodyear II himself. In the master bedroom on the large and ostentatious mansion, both Mr. and Mrs. Charles Goodyear II were supposedly asleep in their large, canopied, king-size bed. Well, Mrs. Anna Goodyear was asleep, but her husband was anything but asleep. Charles himself was tossing and turning in the large bed, finding it almost impossible to get a wink of rest. He couldn't stop thinking about that cursed anniversary and what his father was thinking about him in the great beyond surrounded by the spirits and the bugaboos. Could his father have come to terms with what he had done to him? Could he have forgiven him? Could he have seen him as a great strong man of history? Did he despise him just as much as he seemingly did on the day of his death?

    Charles Goodyear II, wearing nothing but his long nightshirt that went down to his knees and undergarments over his groin, then got out of bed and turned on the lamplight by the table next to his bed, hoping that the light would not awaken his dearly beloved wife, a wife who knew nothing about his part in her father-in-law's death, nor his extramarital affairs, as far as he knew. She was still asleep, at least he thought she was, but he could be mistaken. He then picked up the lamplight and silently headed out of the bedroom, gently closing the door on his way out. He then went down a number of stairs and then through many different corridors and rooms to reach to the basement of the mansion.

    Upon arriving in the underground basement of the mansion, Charles put down the lamplight on the concrete floor of the basement. He then walked over to a large steamer trunk and unlocked the trunk with a key that was in his nightshirt pocket. He then opened up the trunk, rummaged around for a bit and then pulled out a large book entitled Spiritual Marxism: A Compendium on Reaching the Spirit Realm. He then walked back to the lamplight, sat on the floor and then opened up the book. He flipped through the book looking for just the right chapter.

    After a few minutes he found what he was looking for. "This should be the correct chant to summon the spirit of my father." he thought silently to himself. "I've done this before in mixed company. Heck, I've even led the chants myself. How hard can this be to do on my own lonesome?"

    With that, Charles than began the chant out-loud. After repeating the long and cryptic chant out loud for a number of times, he asked; "Father. Do you hear me? It is me your son. Charles Goodyear II. Father. Do you hear me? Father. Do you hear me? Please, if you hear me, respond? Please, if you hear me, respond?"

    After having asked the question one last time, Charles felt a pain in his forehead. He then felt an even greater pain in his stomach. He then felt the same great pain all throughout his body. He then got up to his feet and then dropped to the floor and squirmed like a fish out of water all over that hard, concrete floor, thus feeling even more pain.

    He got up again. His head hurt, this time worse than before. He dropped to the ground again and squirmed again. This then happened again and again.

    He got up again. This time for good. He put the book away back in its trunk, picked up the lamplight and ran back up to his bedroom. As he entered the bedroom, he gently closed the door, put down the lamplight back on the table, turned it off, and got back to bed, almost as if nothing had happened before. He thought that if he had closure from beyond this earthly realm, he could maybe get to sleep easier. He was very much mistaken about that.


    Tuesday, December 11th, 1905
    Goodyear Mansion, outside of Shicagwa, Iowai, Republican Union of America

    Charles finally did get to sleep sometime past midnight, but alas, that was far from the end of his troubles.

    As he fell asleep, he had a dream, but this dream was nothing short of a nightmare. He found himself sitting in a chair in a room full of men in suits, perhaps either businessmen, politicians, or some other class of important people. The men were conversing with each other like it was any regular business meeting. Then the men talked about himself, Charles Goodyear II, after which their tones became angry and foreboding, and their once happy faces turned to scowls and frowns. Charles tried to run away from where he was sitting but he couldn't move. He was petrified, almost as if he was paralyzed or stuck to the chair. Then, as if out of nowhere, all the men in the room looked to him angry, almost demonic expressions. Their faces all contorted and twisted in unnatural directions as they laughed in his face. Their faces then began to felt and they continued laughing and shouting obscenities. The men then took out from almost nowhere guns of all sorts, be they pistols, revolvers, rifles and machine guns, and then turned them on him, after which came out a burst of gunfire. All was pain. Then all was black.

    When he awoke, he discovered he was in Hell, completely naked and with fire and brimstone all around him. Demons with hideous faces and ungodly forms, chimeras of numerous different beasts and creatures, then swirled around him, shouting sacrilegious and incomprehensible things. They shouted that the American Fundamentalist religion was a lie and a false religion. They shouted that Burr was a charlatan and a madman. They shouted that Arnold would have betrayed his country to the British if not for his martyrdom. They shouted that Washington would have hated with a passion what his country had turned into. They shouted there was no such as thing as a Pinnacle Man or a Strong Man. He screamed out as loud as he possibly could. The demons that rushed toward him and began to eat him alive.

    Charles then gasped as he yoke up, his head jutting upwards from the pillow. He gradually came to himself. He noticed his bed, his bedroom, the table next the bed and his wife still sleeping right next to him. He then rested his head back on his pillow and tried to get back to sleep. It would not be easy though, as he felt as if he had just had a premonition of his own demise, retribution for the murder of one of the most successful men the Union had ever had blessed upon itself, and a man that he knew he could never hold a candle and compare himself to, no matter how hard he had tried throughout his life.
    Last edited: Nov 11, 2019
  18. Murica1776 Building an American Tomorrow

    Jun 22, 2016
    The Pep Rally

    Belmont High.jpg
    Belmont High School Pep Rally (1933)

    September 23, 1933
    Bobby Johnson walked to school with a bounce in his step. Today was the pep rally before the fisticuffs season got kicked off. It was supposed to be a ball, and as the school's newest star middleweight, he could expect a fairly hefty cheer. It would be a great way to start off the season, which began this Friday. His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of an impatient Vera waiting for him at their usual spot. Great, he thought another 10 minutes of nagging. Her uptight attitude about the upcoming rally had been the one thing about it which dimmed his enthusiasm. As he got closer, he saw she was wearing a very expensive looking patriotic dress. It was kinda long and poofy, with a Stars and Stripes pattern on it, and a big Fighting Cavalryman in the center of the dress.

    As he closed in on her, he said, "Good morning Vera. You look nice."

    Not even bothering to return the greeting, she asked "Robert, are you aware of what time it is?"

    "Yes, and I know that I'm two minutes early, Miss Impatient."

    "Don't smart mouth me. I told you to get here early so we could go over what you have to do for the rally. It is a tradition here after all, and I want everything to go perfectly. The Party Bannerman for our region is an alumni, and he will be in attendance."

    Bobby Johnson had gone from joyous to the picture of annoyance in about 40 seconds. She had that effect on him when she was in "uptight Yankee mode." Without thinking, he retorted "Listen Vera, I know the drill. I won't ruin your precious little display with my Cokie stupidity. I'm to go change into my fisticuffs uniform right after lunch and wait. I also need to find a lady to escort beforehand, as that's the tradition. Then, run out and put on a good show. Now, are we done, or will I have to listen to your nagging the entire way to school?"

    She turned and gave him a look of undisguised fury. "Robert, do you mean to tell me you HAVEN'T already found your lady to escort? Are you an Irishman's son, or were you just dropped on your head as a child? I told you to find someone a week ago! You'll never find someone suitable now! Of course you found a way to ruin this. You know, for all your airs, you really are just a dumb white trash redneck most of the time, you do know that don't you?"

    To both Bobby and Vera's surprise, he grabbed her arm roughly and brought her face to face with him. "Now hear this. I will make sure I have a lady to escort. But don't you EVER call me white trash again, you uppity damnyankee harpy. Do you understand me?"

    Vera nodded slightly, and he let go of her arm. They walked to school in silence, and as soon as they reached the building they couldn't get away from each other fast enough.

    History class was talking about Pinnacle Men in the Early Roman Republic, such as Cinncinatus. For once, Bobby couldn't pay attention. He was still thinking about his epic fight with Vera. More specifically how he'd like to smack some sense into her. She had to know that calling him white trash was one of the most insulting things she could have done. Yet she did it anyway. He spent the next two classes fuming, and his distraction was noted by his teachers. He didn't care. He just wanted to get through the day at this point. Bobby cursed Vera under his breath for ruining something he had been looking forward to as he went to lunch.

    He put his lunch bag down in his usual spot, and started eating. He notices that everyone really went all out dressing for the pep rally. Vera sat down next to him wordlessly. Everyone else at their table filed in and started eating. As usual, there was a pleasant rhythm of conversation. Well except for the lack of bickering between him and Vera. Their silence was soon commented upon by none other than Ella.

    "Bobby, V, everything ok? You two are usually at each others throats. Now it's basically silent down there!"

    Vera calmly put her food down before verbally unloading, "No, E, everything is most certainly not ok! The dumb Cokie down here doesn't have a lady to escort for the pep rally even though I told him to find one a week ago! Now, the whole endeavor is at risk because he can't simply listen to me for once! And before you ask "Is there anything I can do to help" I'm going to go ahead and tell you that unless you can find a way to make him less STUPID then the answer is NO! He's going to make me look like a fool in front of the school and our Bannerman!"

    Enraged, Bobby yelled back "Ella, darlin, could you do me a favor and tell Miss Uppity Yankee 1933 over here that I can handle finding a damn escort for this damn rally, and that her naggin at me like she's my momma makes her a giant pain in the ass, instead of some wise All-American Gal helpin some poor dumb Southern boy! She's been ridin me all week and I wanna smack some sense into her by damn! Also, make sure that she knows that for someone so worried about how she looks in front of everyone that her dress looks pretty damn stupid!"

    Bobby didn't hear the slap until a few seconds after he actually felt it. Vera left a nice, bright red hand print on his cheek. When he turned to face his tablemates, he saw that each and every one of them was staring slack jawed. Bobby himself had to take a second to process it. Once he did, he also knew the perfect way to get back at her without breaking the cardinal Southron rule that a gentleman never hits a lady, no matter how much he might want to. He turned to Charlotte Fay, the girl that was simultaneously one of Vera's best friends and her biggest rival for primacy at Belmont High. The rising Pinnacle Middleweight and the co-captain of the fencing team would make one hell of a pairing. It would give Charlotte at least a temporary edge in her eternal popularity contest with Vera. Plus, Vera had always disapproved of them spending time together for some reason. It really was perfect.

    "Charlotte, do you mind if I escort you? Your Vera's co-captain on the fencing team, so I know you're an appropriate candidate for a member of the fisticuffs team to escort in front of everyone!"

    Shaking herself out of her stunned stupor, Charlotte replied "Sure Bobby! I'd love to have a strapping Pinnacle Man like yourself on my arm for the rally! And it solves our problem, right Vera?"

    Vera took a deep breath and said "That sounds like a capital idea Charlotte! Thank you."

    The rest of the table breathed a sigh of relief and started chatting again. They were so happy to have the explosive conflict behind them that they didn't even notice Vera glaring daggers at both Charlotte and Bobby. But Bobby noticed, and he decided to indulge in a satisfied smirk. The lunch bell rang shortly afterward, and he made a point of walking Charlotte to the ladies locker room. He spared a moment to turn around so he could give Vera a dazzling smile. To his immense satisfaction, he heard a string of muttered curses.

    After escorting Charlotte to the ladies, he ran over to the gents locker room. He couldn't wait to put on his boxing shorts and gloves. Although everyone at Belmont High had to wear the same jersey, they were allowed to order custom shorts and gloves as an expression of their Pinnacle Blood, much like how officers in the military were allowed to buy and wear custom uniforms, within reason. Bobby's had been expensive, and he still had to work for a couple more weeks to reimburse his folks, but damn it had been worth it! He pulled them out of his locker, and they looked truly glorious. They were longer than most, being knee length. They were solid white, except for the blue cuff at the knees. A depiction of Chancellor Jackson atop a gallant steed had been embossed on the right leg, while the left bore a depiction of Lady Caroline carrying her spear and the shield that bore the Moon and Stars, and the blue cuffs had little white crescent moons on them. Completing the look, his gloves were decorated in the style of the Moon and Stars. He had wanted his uniform to be a proud statement of his Cokieness, and by damn did it deliver! He looked at everyone else who was dressed. Lots of custom shorts and gloves, usually with some kind of family crest or patriotic imagery. None of them were quite as loud as his though. He swaggered around, talking to his teammates and showing off his uniform.

    Coach Gray walked in and gave the boys a talk. He told them that they deserved the attention they were about to receive insomuch as they performed well during the upcoming season. Then he told them to break and find their escorts. He grabbed a giddy Charlotte in her custom fencing outfit, featuring her family's crest and a depiction of Lady Liberty holding a fencing rapier. They chatted and joked while they waited for their cue to run in, and to his delight Bobby found Charlotte good company, and vice versa. To his surprise, she suggested that the two of them meet at Hatheway's on Saturday, after the CYB meeting. He happily agreed, astonished that after less than a month in Yankeeland, he already had a date with a pretty blonde thing like her.

    Everyone gathered in the hallway leading to the gym, and put on their fisticyffs gloves. He saw uniformed CYB officers moving in packs, holding rifles and flags. They heard the band strike up the school's fight song after all the CYB troops got into position. One by one, the names of his teammates were called in alphabetical order. They'd run in with their escort, give a mighty cheer, then escort their lady to wherever they were supposed to be during the rally. Soon, he heard Principal Carruthers' voice boom "Robert Johnson, Freshman Middleweight from North Carolina!"

    Charlotte grabbed his arm, and they sprinted out. A mighty roar rose up from the crowd. The freshman section went particularly crazy, as they knew Bobby as the vanquisher of Anthony Miller, a boy who had bullied many of them since they could walk. He thumped his chest and yelled like a demon. In the frenzy he let out a piercing "YEE YEE!" which earned another roar from the crowd. As he escorted Charlotte to the fencing team, and a glowering Vera, he thought By damn, this must have been what it felt like to be a Roman general in a triumph. He took time to notice that Vera was not in her fencing uniform, likely because she had ceremonial duties to attend to. Standing next to Coach Gray, he saw an important looking blonde man in a dark suit with an MDP armband and a Union lapel pin. That must be the Bannerman, he thought. He really needed to brush up on the MDP hierarchy so he knew who not to piss off. That in mind, he rejoined his fisticuffs teammates in their formation, and let out a final yell.

    After the team assembled, everyone but Bobby raised their right arm in the Fascist salute as the Union Forever played. That familiar Pledge of Allegiance awkwardness came back. By damn it made him uncomfortable. However, he remained respectful and waited for the anthem to end. Ella, Vera, Principal Carruthers, and the MDP Bannerman bounded up to the stage, to a fresh wave of cheers. Principal Carruthers took the mic.

    "Young Comrade-Patriots of Belmont High School, can I get an ALL HAIL?"

    "ALL HAIL! ALL HAIL! ALL HAIL!" roared the crowd

    "Well done! I am so pleased to be here today as your Principal. When I look out at your faces, I see the future of America. From the darkest Negro to the palest Dutchman, you are the generation that will bring the Pinnacle Race its next great victory! I know that you will achieve greatness in your future endeavors. Before I hand it over to your Student Body President and School Atheling, Vera Stark, I would remind you of this. Hard work, piety, patriotism, and improving your Fluidation, is the key to success. The Strong Man is Strong through his own labors, and the fire in his own soul. Find your fire, ladies and gentlemen, and catch light with strength! ALL HAIL!"

    "ALL HAIL!"

    The crowd gave Principal Carruthers a long round of applause. Bobby did too, but was very uncomfortable. The mention of Negroes and Dutchmen in the same breath as equals left him feeling mildly sick. There were only a handful of Negroes at the school, part of the whole "Separate But Equal" thing up here, but Bobby still did his best to avoid them. He got along well enough with his Negro teammate (there was only 1) but still didn't spend time with him outside of practice. It just made his skin crawl. he shook this thought out of his mind as Vera began to speak.

    "Thank you Principal Carruthers, and thank you Belmont High! Can I get an ALL HAIL?"


    "Well Done! It is my honor to be up here as your Student Body President, and School Atheling. My family has lived in Belmont for over 150 years, since the Founding of out town, and the opportunity to serve and lead you is a true honor to me and my family. We are approximately one month into our school year. Already, our students are seeing the fruits of their Pinnacle Efforts. Good grades, excellent social lives, and now, thanks to the leadership of Coach Gray, a fisticuffs team of spectacularly powerful Fluidation! We are certain to win the Silver Glove this year! At the very least, we'll beat those worthless swine at Lexington High!"

    A loud roar went up, and soon a chant of "BEAT OL' LEX, BEAT OL' LEX, BEAT OL' LEX!" started. Lexington High School, in the cradle of American liberty, was Belmont's biggest rival. There was a long history of hatred on both sides there.

    Vera continued, "Through our Pinnacle Efforts and our Pinnacle Fluids, we shall overcome all our obstacles! We will be the vanguard of the next generation of Christian Soldiers, doing and dying for Christ and Prophet all over the world! My fellow Fighting Cavalrymen, if we fight long and hard enough, we can do anything! But don't just take it from me. Take it from your Manifest Destiny Party Bannerman, and Class of 1915 graduate, Damon Cockburn! Give him a round of applause!"

    As the tall, lean man shook Vera's hand and took the podium, a standing ovation broke out for a solid minute and a half. Bannerman Cockburn gestured for the applause to stop and it finally died down. "My goodness, what a crowd! I can practically feel the power of your fluids vibrating off the rafters folks! Give yourselves an ALL HAIL!"


    "Beautiful! I would like to thank Principal Carruthers, and the lovely Miss Stark for such a warm welcome, and I would like to thank you for being such an enthusiastic crowd! You truly have been wonderful crowd. As I look at all of you, I see myself all those years ago. I remember my time on the fisticuffs team. I remember my CYB service in the ghettos of Boston when the Infees rose up after God's vaccine cleansed their pathetic fluids from the face of the Earth! I remember wholesome dates at Hatheway's and grilling bratwurst with the boys after a big win. Belmont is a wonderful town, and Belmont High is a wonderful school. It really does equip you for greatness! At 36 years old, I'm fairly young for a Bannerman. Yet, here I stand before you, and I thank Almighty Jehovah for the path he gave me to this happy place! I couldn't have done it without the lessons I learned here at Belmont High. My coaches and teachers helped whip me into shape, and reminded me that only through the exertions of my own Fluids could I achieve success! They were sometimes harsh, but they were always just. In that way, the remind me somewhat of our Great Atheling and President, Joseph Custer Steele. I'm sure all of you know that that is the highest compliment anyone can give. These people give you a lot. Make use of the opportunities they give you, young Comrade-Patriots, and you will go far. Now, I'm sure you are all ready to get to the real meat of this rally. I shall offer this in parting. Stay true to your fluids, and beat Lexington High till they beg and cry! ALL HAIL!"


    The next hour was filled with cheers, dancing, and fun. Bobby and one of his fellow middleweights, Albin Cornett, had a friendly sparring match for the crowd's enjoyment. When he won their sparring match, Vera had to present him with the Middleweight of Belmont High Belt. She seemed less angry now, probably because the rally was going well. When the rally had finally ended, he went to go change back into his regular clothes before heading home. He was surprised to see Vera waiting for him outside the men's locker room.

    She caught his arm as he walked out. "Robert, may I have a word in private?"

    He nodded, and they went off to the side away from the throngs of exiting students. He was still very annoyed, so when she hesitated in speaking, he decided to take the lead in a rather gruff manner. "What is it Vera? Did I accidentally scratch my nose and cause the Party Bannerman to look at you funny?"

    Rather than the harsh retort he was expecting, she just sighed and started to walk off. Before she managed to get far, he grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. "Ok, that was rude and unbecoming of a Cokie gentleman. I apologize, I should have held my tongue. What did you want to discuss with me?"

    Vera took a deep breath and avoided eye contact. "Robert, I... I want to apologize as well. I have been far to hard on you this week. You didn't ruin anything, quite the opposite. You really got the freshmen engaged, and historically they're the least enthusiastic. Also, your performance in the sparring match won praise from Bannerman Cockburn. Yes, you should have found a lady to escort sooner, but I shouldn't have struck you. I'm sorry Robert, can you forgive me?" She had taken time during her apology to smooth out a wrinkle on his suit sleeve, but still refused to meet his eyes. Bobby was honestly stunned. He'd seen Vera practically run people over before and not apologize, so he knew it was genuine.

    He smiled and said "I forgive you. I was also hard on you at lunch today. Your dress doesn't look stupid, it's quite pretty. Why don't we go to Hatheway's and celebrate our great rally over burgers and shakes, huh?" She smiled and nodded happily. They headed out of the school building, happily chatting. On the way out, they ran into Charlotte getting her books.

    "Hey Vera, hey Bobby! Glad to see that you two aren't trying to kill each other anymore. Also, thanks for being such a swell escort Bobby! I'll see you at Hatheway's on Saturday?"

    Vera turned and looked at him quizzically. He suddenly felt very sheepish for some reason, but managed to reply "Yep, Saturday after the CYB meeting. See ya then." He swore he saw Vera's face fall for a moment, but she had a smile on her face right after, so he wasn't sure. They said goodbye to Charlotte after she and Vera talked for a minute about how to lead the fencing team in the upcoming season. That reminded him of how much he needed to practice before their first fight this Friday! Him and Vera walked over to Hatheway's and stayed their longer than either expected before walking home together. When he went to practice his moves in the garage, something about Vera was nagging at him, but he put it aside. He had a match to win.
    Last edited: Nov 11, 2019
  19. Sunstone77 Well-Known Member

    Jun 19, 2018
    So I know Napoleon53 has said that superhero comics aren’t going to be as big as phenomenon as otl, but that hasn’t stopped me doing more pondering on WMIT comics.

    So far I’ve created Captain America, Batman, and Wonder Woman analogies, and have been formulating more. I feel like a hero like Superman (basically an alien immigrant) wouldn’t be too popular in the Madness but a hero like Captain Marvel/Shazam (kid calling upon ancient magiks to become an idealised pinnacle of men) would play extremely well into the RU pop culture. All he really needs to a tweak to his acronym away to something a little more AFC friendly.

    I’ve also been pondering merging the ideas of Iron Man and Adam Strange to create a competitor to Zap Zephyr. Lance Comet, hard working American industrialist discovers a strange metal and builds himself a powerful suit of armor and becomes The Crimson Comet, defender of Earth, Fundamentalism, and the Republican American Way!
  20. Born in the USSA Well-Known Member

    Nov 14, 2015
    Well that's easy, you just make the magic word "ABABAB" and he turns into triple-Aaron Burr! Instead of the Wizard you could have Father Abe give him powers as a Patriot-Saints Day present lol.
    Sunstone77 and Ameroboto like this.