"What Madness Is This?" Volume I: The Union Forever
- Thread starter Napoleon53
- Start date
Those look awesome! I appreciate you flushing out the front lines of the various theaters in the latest map, they look much better--both aesthetically and for entrenchment purposes.
MAN OF THE HOUR: ICEPICK JOE
This is it. The moment we've all been waiting for, when Madness truly arrives on the Steele Train:
The following is a transcript of Joseph Steele's talkiebox address to the nation, delivered on Uncle Sam's Talkiebox Station on February 5, 1914:
When Joe Steele, also known as Michael Custer, spoke at the massive funeral in Philadelphia, he made it clear that his father's work would never be finished. However, he made it particularly clear that he would continue his father's work himself. In reality, Supreme Chief Dewey enjoyed being the ORRA commander and claimed to be too old for politics. He also feared Steele would overthrow him anyway. So, in the last two months, Dewey had maintained a secret correspondence with Steele as the latter occupied California. He made it clear that Custer did not have long left. His lung cancer had combined with the flu to ravage his body. Dewey pleaded with Steele to return to Philadelphia and take the reigns of power. In particular, he feared the potential leadership of Thomas Custer, the Supreme Chief of the Military Police. Steele also disliked his adopted uncle and considered him a mere shadow of George. And with Dewey wanting no part of the Presidency, that left the gates wide open for Thomas to occupy the Presidential Mansion. This would not do. Dewey also kept Joe abreast on the Kissimmee Conference and Steele knew full well when he announced the "Cleansing Month" what was in store for the Inferior vaccine patients. Eight out of every ten viles of Inferior-destined vaccine was laced with a deadly toxin that would slowly kill the recipient. It would take about a month for the symptoms to fully kick in, so the push to actually accomplish the Cleansing Month in time was essential.
When Steele told the Union government he would be stepping into the Presidency, thousands of politicians were horrified. Steele had not acquired the nickname of "Icepick Joe" and "the Butcher of the Plains" for nothing. According to some stories, Steele personally would kill any who disobeyed or offended him. He also maintained a small group of disciples he referred to as the "Wolf Pack" that were trusted assassins and goons loyal only to him. Using the Wolf Pack, he quickly manipulated those in the government who were against him or on the fence. Interestingly, Matilda Richardson, Supreme Chief of Public Works, was a devout follower from the beginning, heavily invested in both the Final Solution to the Inferior Question and adored Steele. According to legend, Richardson often had acted as a mother-figure to Steele, especially in his teenage years. Backed by Dewey, Richardson, and the Wolf Pack, as well as almost the entirety of the Office of Racial and Religious Affairs, Steele moved in. While Custer's body laid in state at the First American Fundamentalist Church, Burr's first church, Steele and his agents were acting fast. In order to prevent civil war, they had to move like clockwork.
In the shadows, they worked away. Thomas Custer's only child, 26 year-old Margie, was kidnapped under the dead of night by the Wolf Pack. Joe visited his uncle the next day to "comfort his uncle in his time of grief." Joe had just given his uncle a huge bear hug, holding him and patting his back, telling him he would not rest until Thomas's daughter could be found.
"Thank you, Michael, er, uh, Mr. President. I appreciate your help very much. If Jehovah favors me, perhaps she shall be brought back to me speedily," Thomas said, as the 69 year-old Custer brother looked dejectedly at the floor of his Philadelphia home.
Michael, or Joe, then pulled out a small picture of Margie from his jacket pocket. It showed a bruised and beaten Margie Custer tied tightly to a chair, naked, in a cabin somewhere. The look on Thomas's face was of abject horror. "Where... where... did you get this, Mr. President?"
Joe looked his uncle straight in the eyes as a wicked grin spread over his face. The beginnings of a mustache made his smile even more disturbing and odd-looking. "Uncle Thomas. Your daughter can be brought back to you. Your prayers answered! But I swear on my life, if you ever oppose me or ever try to work against me, your daughter will be chopped into six pieces and dumped like revolutionary tea into the nearest harbor. Do you understand me, Uncle? I will not be stopped. I know what you have said about me. I know you tried to pull strings to get me shipped out into the most dangerous frontlines since the Nippon War. I have killed many men. I don't even think about it anymore. I can't kill you, because that would be far too messy, but it would be a real shame if some 'anarchists' ripped your precious Margie limb from limb. I will return her to you. She has no idea who is holding her. This is your only chance. You will officially throw yourself and the Military Police behind my administration or she will die. What say you, Uncle?"
Thomas stared him down, shaking with terror and rage. Hot tears poured down his wrinkled face. Snot bubbled pathetically from his nose and dripped onto his ill-fitting blue uniform. He grimaced and answered, "Fine. You monster. Fine. You can expect my endorsement tomorrow but please don't hurt her! She's your cousin for God's sake!"
Joe. laughed and plopped down in an old Napoleonic-era chair in his uncle's living room. He happily poured himself a glass of brandy from the nearby decanter, took a sip, smacked his lips, and looked back at his uncle. Without flinching he said, "Cousin? Hah!" he laughed a raspy, mocking laugh that would have choked someone else. "You pathetic creatures are not my family. The Custer family did nothing but raise me in isolation with that pathetic fool Mr. Tobias beating me day and night for so much as looking out a window. And then you know what my father did? He had me 'volunteer' to fight in Holy Nippon to 'make the family look good.' I was shot down by the yellow savages and almost killed. But it backfired. I know you tried to have me killed, Uncle. I know you knew that aeroship I was on was going into the thick of the action. You told George it was safe. You wanted Margie to be President some day, don't tell me you didn't. I have no father. I have no family, nor a need for one. I for damn sure don't have an uncle! What I have... is an entire country, one of the biggest empires in history. I am master of a continent. And you listen to me, you decrepit son of a bitch: trust no one. Not your friends. Not your colleagues. Not even your family. Don't even trust yourself. I know I don't! Haha!" Steele took another swig of brandy before kicking his boots up on the antique coffee table in front of him, mud streaking across the white marble top and sending a magazine flopping to the floor to make room. "So, I will expect your endorsement tonight. Or little cousin Margie gets torn to ribbons and you spend the rest of your life in the Tobias Institute as a meditating recluse. Choose wisely! The world is your oyster!"
That evening, Thomas Custer officially endorsed Joe Steele as the legitimate President. Three days later, an "ORRA raid" on an "anarchist terrorist cell" in the Poconos saw the "rescue of Margie Custer from the gnarled, freckled hands of diabolical Irish nutters."
Another fierce opponent of Steele's administration was Custer Youth Brigade Headmaster-Marshal Theodore Roosevelt. Not only had Roosevelt said that Joe Steele was "better suited to military adventures than politics." He actually formed what he called the "Bull Moose Movement." It quickly became clear that he had... higher... aspirations. Roosevelt had been a massively influential follower of George Custer, and they always had had much in common. But Roosevelt was now preparing to challenge Steele. Steele was ready to do whatever he needed to get rid of Roosevelt and told Calvin Coolidge, Winston Churchill's college chum, to stand ready to replace Teddy as Headmaster-Marshal. Speaking to a crowd in Oshkosh on February 20, Roosevelt told them:
"If Supreme Chief Dewey does not want to fulfill the requirements of his position, one of which is becoming President if the current President dies, then he should step aside. It is written in our 1882 Constitution, Section I, Clause II, that the ORRA Supreme Chief is first legal successor to the highest office in the land. Patriot-Saint Custer wrote this himself. Now his son, not even by blood mind you, well, this so-called Butcher of the Plains wants to come in and declare himself President of his own accord. That, my friends, is a load of horseshit. I instead ask for one thing before this whelp rips our laws asunder: a free and fair election. I guarantee that I could beat him! I feel as strong as a bull moose!"
Shortly after that, as the crowd cheered and booed, an assassin's bullet hit Roosevelt squarely in the chest. He staggered back, clutching at the wound as the crowd screamed in horror. Slowly, he leaned forward onto the podium, taking a thick, rolled-up speech out of his chest pocket. The bullet was caught in it. As the crowd began to cheer and the assassin was restrained, he held the paper aloft and shouted:
"Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, I have just been shot. But I tell you now, it takes more than that to kill a bull moose!"
At that, a gunman located somewhere on the rooftops blew his head open with a rifle round. As brain matter and gore flecked the podium and stage, everyone ran, worrying an anarchist mass-shooting was about to erupt. Up on the roof of the Yankee Telegraph and Shipping office across the cobblestone street, a 20 year-old member of Steele's Wolf Pack, a veteran of the Californian Front, threw his bolt-action rifle down a chimney and then stuffed a pair of leather gloves into the pockets of his trenchcoat, emblazoned with the Yankee Telegraph company logo. He then calmly headed down the fire escape that he had ascended on before driving away in a company truck. Benedict Arnold Hoover smiled to himself as he saw policemen carrying away Roosevelt's body in his side mirror. He lit up a Firebreather and enjoyed a hit of cocaine as he rattled on down the road.
Within two days, Coolidge was in control of the CYB. The takeover was almost complete. A few ice picks here, and a few disappearances there, and Steele would truly be master of all he surveyed....
Theodore Roosevelt moments before his assassination in Boston
B.A. Hoover, Theodore Roosevelt's assassin
Headmaster-Marshal Calvin Coolidge walks down the steps of the Capitol after his swearing-in
MAN OF THE HOUR:
ICEPICK JOE
Joe Steele in his uniform as Commander of the Californian Front (1913)
ICEPICK JOE
Joe Steele in his uniform as Commander of the Californian Front (1913)
The following is a transcript of Joseph Steele's talkiebox address to the nation, delivered on Uncle Sam's Talkiebox Station on February 5, 1914:
"Citizens of the Republican Union of America! Rejoice, for our faithful and glorious President, George Armstrong Custer, has entered the Promised Land! At the right hand of Jesus Christ he dwells now with Father Abraham and the Prophet Burr! In just two decades, my father brought forth on this continent a stronger Union, forged in the crackling, red-hot smelter of liberty and Manifest Destiny. Every generation, there is a man who Jehovah our God calls to holy duty, be it of the sword or pen. Every generation, there is a champion of truth, justice, and the American Way. A man with brains, brawn, and courage, and the internal fortitude to do what he must to preserve this our sacred way of life and our core beliefs. These men show themselves to be truly of the Pinnacle blood, passed down in their veins through the eons from our ancient Betters. These men do not stand idly by. They do not stare at the struggles ahead with complacency. They do not shirk from the path Jehovah has set before them. They stand up, like an Old Testament Judge, and lead the Chosen closer to the Promised Land.
"My father never put anything ahead of his country or people. He was a mighty Lion of New Judah. From the worst of days, when the Prophet Burr's and Father Abraham's dreams seemed to be slipping away and America drifted into the sinful decadence of soft-democracy, my father felt the call. He knew that everything is preordained. He firmly believed in everything upon which this mighty nation we call home was founded, especially the Destiny which is made Manifest. Sometimes this divine fate only reveals itself to the one who has been called by the Lord, and through his actions he reveals God's plans to all. The son of simple Ohio stock, there was nothing simple about my father other than his love of country and devotion to duty. He had in him the greatness for which we all pine. The feeling in his gut that he was meant to be remembered for all time. When my father overthrew the flaccid guttersnipes that were festering in Philadelphia, so many years ago, he knew he would not rest until he had made America great again. First he started with Mexico, securing the Canal and annihilating the Mexican menace which plagued us for so many years. Then he moved into Asia, creating the Fascist Co-Prosperity Sphere and bringing the fledgling Australia and and Holy Nippon into our ranks, Chosen all. A little boy from Ohio stretched his arms across the Pacific and whipped it into shape. That fighting son of the Buckeyes and servant of Christ licked the Beckies, Canucks, and Californians, bringing us to the cusp of total dominion over the New Jerusalem. Only Russian Alyaska remains under the contemptible control of the foreign steppe demons.
"But our fight, his fight, is not yet finished! My father's struggle is not yet over! The whole world must be cleansed of the evil that once called us small and weak. The entire world stands and watches us, in this our most crucial hour. Will we reap the rewards my father labored for decades to attain, or will we slide into the decadence of a new post-Lincoln era? People of the Republican Union! My fellow citizens! America has experienced tumult before. In our most glorious hours, we also face our biggest challenges. We are presented with a choice. We can do it God's Way, or we can do it Satan's Way. Our destiny is preordained. We will fulfill the sacred prophecies of the Four Books of Manifest Destiny, but we may set ourselves back by resting on our laurels and not dealing promptly with the problems at hand.
"I wish to tell every American this day that never again will we experience the chaos of a disorderly leadership succession. Never again will Americans shed blood in the streets to overthrow a corrupt and cuckolded government that does not care for the ordinary Betters of Society. No more shall our country be ravaged by disease and civil disorder! My father's purpose for which he dedicated his life must not be allowed to fall to the wayside. We did not sacrifice these bloody years to let our victories give way to internal strife. Therefore, in the name and memory of my adopted father, Patriot-Saint George Custer, I will assume the office of the Presidency, effective immediately. It is important that our enemies do not catch us off-guard in this saddening yet triumphal time. Now ordinarily, following the preset order of succession, the Supreme Chief of the Office of Racial and Religious Affairs would become the President following the latter's death. However, Supreme Chief Dewey has personally called upon me to fulfill this role. He knows that right now America needs a young, strong Pinnacle hand to guide it through this victory and loss and to end the internal issues we have been dealing with for some time.
"This leads into my next point. The night is always darkest just before the dawn. A veil is lifting. The dreaded Beckie Flu, the means by which so many of our dearest patriot-comrades have passed, has mutated into an even stronger and deadlier version of itself. As we speak, millions across the world are dealing with this blight. But I have good news. News that will go down in history as the potential salvation of mankind. For Better minds have been working together for many months. We have been blessed with the fortune of having two of the greatest minds of this era, Dr. Joseph K. Finch and Dr. Midas Israel Goldstein. Together, they have done it! My father knew of their success on his deathbed, and he told Supreme Chief Dewey "Jehovah be praised. They've saved the country." My father rests in peace knowing a cure has finally arrived. Beginning one month from now, every single man, woman, and child, Better and Inferior, rich or poor, white, black, red, or yellow, will receive a free inoculation against the flu. This vaccine is a medical miracle, gifted to us by the Lord. This disease must not be allowed to flourish. It must be wiped out and completely destroyed in the New Jerusalem. Therefore, this inoculation will not be voluntary. Beginning March 1, we will begin the Cleansing Month. Within a month, we will inoculate every last person on this continent and end this terror once and for all. We will also be sharing this miracle with our dear friends in the greater fascist alliance and the Co-Prosperity Sphere. After all, Dr. Finch is an Englishman, and he will be delighted to help those so sorely afflicted in Britannia.
"My final words are these: We will never surrender to the global papist conspiracy to sap and impurify all of our precious Pinnacle fluids. This global cabal may be on the run. The Bonapartist menace may have had its teeth kicked in by the Central Powers. But. The Central Powers did not continue the fight. They abandoned the fight to save themselves from the necessary horrors and rigors of total war. If Missus Hohenzollern-Wettin had continued the fight, perhaps Germanian and Dutch troops would be marching through Paris right now, with Old Boney's head on a pike. But they betrayed the war effort. They went soft. And now, at this second, the diabolical minds inside the Vatican and Fontainebleau plot together their insidious schemes to topple the Pinnacle Man and drag all of our souls to Hell. These heretics spit upon Jehovah. Like Lucifer and his Fallen Angels, they desire nothing more than the sapping and impurification of our bodily fluids. They want left-wing agitation. They want indoctrination. And they Want miscegenation. But this will not be allowed. Not now, or ever. Not while Joseph Steele is President. All hail the Prophet! All hail Father Abraham! All hail Patriot-Saint Custer! My fellow Americans, all hail the New America, a steel America!"
President Custer's funeral procession rolls through Philadelphia
Custer's body lies in state at the First Fundamentalist Church
Custer's final funeral ceremony at his tomb at Patriot's Rest, the nation's largest military and political graveyard
"My father never put anything ahead of his country or people. He was a mighty Lion of New Judah. From the worst of days, when the Prophet Burr's and Father Abraham's dreams seemed to be slipping away and America drifted into the sinful decadence of soft-democracy, my father felt the call. He knew that everything is preordained. He firmly believed in everything upon which this mighty nation we call home was founded, especially the Destiny which is made Manifest. Sometimes this divine fate only reveals itself to the one who has been called by the Lord, and through his actions he reveals God's plans to all. The son of simple Ohio stock, there was nothing simple about my father other than his love of country and devotion to duty. He had in him the greatness for which we all pine. The feeling in his gut that he was meant to be remembered for all time. When my father overthrew the flaccid guttersnipes that were festering in Philadelphia, so many years ago, he knew he would not rest until he had made America great again. First he started with Mexico, securing the Canal and annihilating the Mexican menace which plagued us for so many years. Then he moved into Asia, creating the Fascist Co-Prosperity Sphere and bringing the fledgling Australia and and Holy Nippon into our ranks, Chosen all. A little boy from Ohio stretched his arms across the Pacific and whipped it into shape. That fighting son of the Buckeyes and servant of Christ licked the Beckies, Canucks, and Californians, bringing us to the cusp of total dominion over the New Jerusalem. Only Russian Alyaska remains under the contemptible control of the foreign steppe demons.
"But our fight, his fight, is not yet finished! My father's struggle is not yet over! The whole world must be cleansed of the evil that once called us small and weak. The entire world stands and watches us, in this our most crucial hour. Will we reap the rewards my father labored for decades to attain, or will we slide into the decadence of a new post-Lincoln era? People of the Republican Union! My fellow citizens! America has experienced tumult before. In our most glorious hours, we also face our biggest challenges. We are presented with a choice. We can do it God's Way, or we can do it Satan's Way. Our destiny is preordained. We will fulfill the sacred prophecies of the Four Books of Manifest Destiny, but we may set ourselves back by resting on our laurels and not dealing promptly with the problems at hand.
"I wish to tell every American this day that never again will we experience the chaos of a disorderly leadership succession. Never again will Americans shed blood in the streets to overthrow a corrupt and cuckolded government that does not care for the ordinary Betters of Society. No more shall our country be ravaged by disease and civil disorder! My father's purpose for which he dedicated his life must not be allowed to fall to the wayside. We did not sacrifice these bloody years to let our victories give way to internal strife. Therefore, in the name and memory of my adopted father, Patriot-Saint George Custer, I will assume the office of the Presidency, effective immediately. It is important that our enemies do not catch us off-guard in this saddening yet triumphal time. Now ordinarily, following the preset order of succession, the Supreme Chief of the Office of Racial and Religious Affairs would become the President following the latter's death. However, Supreme Chief Dewey has personally called upon me to fulfill this role. He knows that right now America needs a young, strong Pinnacle hand to guide it through this victory and loss and to end the internal issues we have been dealing with for some time.
"This leads into my next point. The night is always darkest just before the dawn. A veil is lifting. The dreaded Beckie Flu, the means by which so many of our dearest patriot-comrades have passed, has mutated into an even stronger and deadlier version of itself. As we speak, millions across the world are dealing with this blight. But I have good news. News that will go down in history as the potential salvation of mankind. For Better minds have been working together for many months. We have been blessed with the fortune of having two of the greatest minds of this era, Dr. Joseph K. Finch and Dr. Midas Israel Goldstein. Together, they have done it! My father knew of their success on his deathbed, and he told Supreme Chief Dewey "Jehovah be praised. They've saved the country." My father rests in peace knowing a cure has finally arrived. Beginning one month from now, every single man, woman, and child, Better and Inferior, rich or poor, white, black, red, or yellow, will receive a free inoculation against the flu. This vaccine is a medical miracle, gifted to us by the Lord. This disease must not be allowed to flourish. It must be wiped out and completely destroyed in the New Jerusalem. Therefore, this inoculation will not be voluntary. Beginning March 1, we will begin the Cleansing Month. Within a month, we will inoculate every last person on this continent and end this terror once and for all. We will also be sharing this miracle with our dear friends in the greater fascist alliance and the Co-Prosperity Sphere. After all, Dr. Finch is an Englishman, and he will be delighted to help those so sorely afflicted in Britannia.
"My final words are these: We will never surrender to the global papist conspiracy to sap and impurify all of our precious Pinnacle fluids. This global cabal may be on the run. The Bonapartist menace may have had its teeth kicked in by the Central Powers. But. The Central Powers did not continue the fight. They abandoned the fight to save themselves from the necessary horrors and rigors of total war. If Missus Hohenzollern-Wettin had continued the fight, perhaps Germanian and Dutch troops would be marching through Paris right now, with Old Boney's head on a pike. But they betrayed the war effort. They went soft. And now, at this second, the diabolical minds inside the Vatican and Fontainebleau plot together their insidious schemes to topple the Pinnacle Man and drag all of our souls to Hell. These heretics spit upon Jehovah. Like Lucifer and his Fallen Angels, they desire nothing more than the sapping and impurification of our bodily fluids. They want left-wing agitation. They want indoctrination. And they Want miscegenation. But this will not be allowed. Not now, or ever. Not while Joseph Steele is President. All hail the Prophet! All hail Father Abraham! All hail Patriot-Saint Custer! My fellow Americans, all hail the New America, a steel America!"
President Custer's funeral procession rolls through Philadelphia
Custer's body lies in state at the First Fundamentalist Church
Custer's final funeral ceremony at his tomb at Patriot's Rest, the nation's largest military and political graveyard
The death of George Armstrong Custer at age 75 - the death of the man who had led America with an iron fist since 1881 - sent shockwaves across the world. Not only had the Kaiser died, but so too had the Blonde Lion of Fascism. All across the Republican Union, thousands of black banners hung from windows and doorways. Crosses, flowers, and portraits of the dictator lined the roadways, a symbol of respect and gratitude to the man who had overthrown the weakling government and had fulfilled the dreams of Father Abraham. He had lived to lead an America that stretched from Quebec in the north to Panama in the south. He was a figurative giant among men, a titan of tyranny and true, inarguable success. Despite the high losses in the war and the ongoing Inferior insurrections, he had brought previously unimaginable success to the Union. While before dreams of a unified North America had been fantastical pipe dreams of a long-dead prophet, where people would clutch their children's hands and tell them "some day," the dreams were now realized at the expense of the nightmares of all who surrounded the Union. Virginia, Georgia, Texas, Mexico, Cuba, Quebec, Canada, and California had now all tasted Yankee steel and had been consumed by the ever-growing fires of Manifest Destiny.
When Joe Steele, also known as Michael Custer, spoke at the massive funeral in Philadelphia, he made it clear that his father's work would never be finished. However, he made it particularly clear that he would continue his father's work himself. In reality, Supreme Chief Dewey enjoyed being the ORRA commander and claimed to be too old for politics. He also feared Steele would overthrow him anyway. So, in the last two months, Dewey had maintained a secret correspondence with Steele as the latter occupied California. He made it clear that Custer did not have long left. His lung cancer had combined with the flu to ravage his body. Dewey pleaded with Steele to return to Philadelphia and take the reigns of power. In particular, he feared the potential leadership of Thomas Custer, the Supreme Chief of the Military Police. Steele also disliked his adopted uncle and considered him a mere shadow of George. And with Dewey wanting no part of the Presidency, that left the gates wide open for Thomas to occupy the Presidential Mansion. This would not do. Dewey also kept Joe abreast on the Kissimmee Conference and Steele knew full well when he announced the "Cleansing Month" what was in store for the Inferior vaccine patients. Eight out of every ten viles of Inferior-destined vaccine was laced with a deadly toxin that would slowly kill the recipient. It would take about a month for the symptoms to fully kick in, so the push to actually accomplish the Cleansing Month in time was essential.
When Steele told the Union government he would be stepping into the Presidency, thousands of politicians were horrified. Steele had not acquired the nickname of "Icepick Joe" and "the Butcher of the Plains" for nothing. According to some stories, Steele personally would kill any who disobeyed or offended him. He also maintained a small group of disciples he referred to as the "Wolf Pack" that were trusted assassins and goons loyal only to him. Using the Wolf Pack, he quickly manipulated those in the government who were against him or on the fence. Interestingly, Matilda Richardson, Supreme Chief of Public Works, was a devout follower from the beginning, heavily invested in both the Final Solution to the Inferior Question and adored Steele. According to legend, Richardson often had acted as a mother-figure to Steele, especially in his teenage years. Backed by Dewey, Richardson, and the Wolf Pack, as well as almost the entirety of the Office of Racial and Religious Affairs, Steele moved in. While Custer's body laid in state at the First American Fundamentalist Church, Burr's first church, Steele and his agents were acting fast. In order to prevent civil war, they had to move like clockwork.
In the shadows, they worked away. Thomas Custer's only child, 26 year-old Margie, was kidnapped under the dead of night by the Wolf Pack. Joe visited his uncle the next day to "comfort his uncle in his time of grief." Joe had just given his uncle a huge bear hug, holding him and patting his back, telling him he would not rest until Thomas's daughter could be found.
"Thank you, Michael, er, uh, Mr. President. I appreciate your help very much. If Jehovah favors me, perhaps she shall be brought back to me speedily," Thomas said, as the 69 year-old Custer brother looked dejectedly at the floor of his Philadelphia home.
Michael, or Joe, then pulled out a small picture of Margie from his jacket pocket. It showed a bruised and beaten Margie Custer tied tightly to a chair, naked, in a cabin somewhere. The look on Thomas's face was of abject horror. "Where... where... did you get this, Mr. President?"
Joe looked his uncle straight in the eyes as a wicked grin spread over his face. The beginnings of a mustache made his smile even more disturbing and odd-looking. "Uncle Thomas. Your daughter can be brought back to you. Your prayers answered! But I swear on my life, if you ever oppose me or ever try to work against me, your daughter will be chopped into six pieces and dumped like revolutionary tea into the nearest harbor. Do you understand me, Uncle? I will not be stopped. I know what you have said about me. I know you tried to pull strings to get me shipped out into the most dangerous frontlines since the Nippon War. I have killed many men. I don't even think about it anymore. I can't kill you, because that would be far too messy, but it would be a real shame if some 'anarchists' ripped your precious Margie limb from limb. I will return her to you. She has no idea who is holding her. This is your only chance. You will officially throw yourself and the Military Police behind my administration or she will die. What say you, Uncle?"
Thomas stared him down, shaking with terror and rage. Hot tears poured down his wrinkled face. Snot bubbled pathetically from his nose and dripped onto his ill-fitting blue uniform. He grimaced and answered, "Fine. You monster. Fine. You can expect my endorsement tomorrow but please don't hurt her! She's your cousin for God's sake!"
Joe. laughed and plopped down in an old Napoleonic-era chair in his uncle's living room. He happily poured himself a glass of brandy from the nearby decanter, took a sip, smacked his lips, and looked back at his uncle. Without flinching he said, "Cousin? Hah!" he laughed a raspy, mocking laugh that would have choked someone else. "You pathetic creatures are not my family. The Custer family did nothing but raise me in isolation with that pathetic fool Mr. Tobias beating me day and night for so much as looking out a window. And then you know what my father did? He had me 'volunteer' to fight in Holy Nippon to 'make the family look good.' I was shot down by the yellow savages and almost killed. But it backfired. I know you tried to have me killed, Uncle. I know you knew that aeroship I was on was going into the thick of the action. You told George it was safe. You wanted Margie to be President some day, don't tell me you didn't. I have no father. I have no family, nor a need for one. I for damn sure don't have an uncle! What I have... is an entire country, one of the biggest empires in history. I am master of a continent. And you listen to me, you decrepit son of a bitch: trust no one. Not your friends. Not your colleagues. Not even your family. Don't even trust yourself. I know I don't! Haha!" Steele took another swig of brandy before kicking his boots up on the antique coffee table in front of him, mud streaking across the white marble top and sending a magazine flopping to the floor to make room. "So, I will expect your endorsement tonight. Or little cousin Margie gets torn to ribbons and you spend the rest of your life in the Tobias Institute as a meditating recluse. Choose wisely! The world is your oyster!"
That evening, Thomas Custer officially endorsed Joe Steele as the legitimate President. Three days later, an "ORRA raid" on an "anarchist terrorist cell" in the Poconos saw the "rescue of Margie Custer from the gnarled, freckled hands of diabolical Irish nutters."
Another fierce opponent of Steele's administration was Custer Youth Brigade Headmaster-Marshal Theodore Roosevelt. Not only had Roosevelt said that Joe Steele was "better suited to military adventures than politics." He actually formed what he called the "Bull Moose Movement." It quickly became clear that he had... higher... aspirations. Roosevelt had been a massively influential follower of George Custer, and they always had had much in common. But Roosevelt was now preparing to challenge Steele. Steele was ready to do whatever he needed to get rid of Roosevelt and told Calvin Coolidge, Winston Churchill's college chum, to stand ready to replace Teddy as Headmaster-Marshal. Speaking to a crowd in Oshkosh on February 20, Roosevelt told them:
"If Supreme Chief Dewey does not want to fulfill the requirements of his position, one of which is becoming President if the current President dies, then he should step aside. It is written in our 1882 Constitution, Section I, Clause II, that the ORRA Supreme Chief is first legal successor to the highest office in the land. Patriot-Saint Custer wrote this himself. Now his son, not even by blood mind you, well, this so-called Butcher of the Plains wants to come in and declare himself President of his own accord. That, my friends, is a load of horseshit. I instead ask for one thing before this whelp rips our laws asunder: a free and fair election. I guarantee that I could beat him! I feel as strong as a bull moose!"
Shortly after that, as the crowd cheered and booed, an assassin's bullet hit Roosevelt squarely in the chest. He staggered back, clutching at the wound as the crowd screamed in horror. Slowly, he leaned forward onto the podium, taking a thick, rolled-up speech out of his chest pocket. The bullet was caught in it. As the crowd began to cheer and the assassin was restrained, he held the paper aloft and shouted:
"Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, I have just been shot. But I tell you now, it takes more than that to kill a bull moose!"
At that, a gunman located somewhere on the rooftops blew his head open with a rifle round. As brain matter and gore flecked the podium and stage, everyone ran, worrying an anarchist mass-shooting was about to erupt. Up on the roof of the Yankee Telegraph and Shipping office across the cobblestone street, a 20 year-old member of Steele's Wolf Pack, a veteran of the Californian Front, threw his bolt-action rifle down a chimney and then stuffed a pair of leather gloves into the pockets of his trenchcoat, emblazoned with the Yankee Telegraph company logo. He then calmly headed down the fire escape that he had ascended on before driving away in a company truck. Benedict Arnold Hoover smiled to himself as he saw policemen carrying away Roosevelt's body in his side mirror. He lit up a Firebreather and enjoyed a hit of cocaine as he rattled on down the road.
Within two days, Coolidge was in control of the CYB. The takeover was almost complete. A few ice picks here, and a few disappearances there, and Steele would truly be master of all he surveyed....
Theodore Roosevelt moments before his assassination in Boston
B.A. Hoover, Theodore Roosevelt's assassin
Headmaster-Marshal Calvin Coolidge walks down the steps of the Capitol after his swearing-in
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I couldn’t help but laugh at the fact TR says his famous defiant words and then gets his brains blown out anyway a second later
In any timeline, Stalin is a glorified mafia don with the trappings of legitimacy.
Sometimes I feel inspiration. Wolf Pack was one of those moments. lol Can you guys guess what Oswald's goon squad will be called? *wink wink*
Nest of jackals?
Also, I can't wait to see what you do with fucked-up creeps like Beria, Dirlewanger, Yezhov, Lazar Kaganovich, Himmler, Eichmann, etc.
Obviously, it wouldn't be the ACTUAL Rat Pack, as they were mostly Italian, but I find the idea of evil JFK operating a "Rat Pack" hit squad hilarious. In fact, the idea of most Union higher-ups having these hit squads is fantastic. I already have said that colonels and Servants get "protection units" from the Church, but these are straightup thugs.
That would be a great one for Nixon.
Steele is always going to be a bastard, no matter the universe he's in. And now he is president of the RU...thank God I don't live in this world!
What's Heydrich/Hendrick's one going to be called? The Unspeakables?
Obviously, it wouldn't be the ACTUAL Rat Pack, as they were mostly Italian, but I find the idea of evil JFK operating a "Rat Pack" hit squad hilarious. In fact, the idea of most Union higher-ups having these hit squads is fantastic. I already have said that colonels and Servants get "protection units" from the Church, but these are straightup thugs.
That would be a great one for Nixon.
Complete with the post office of the RU having a nuclear program, anyone?
Well considering famous people from OTL are being born in spite of the butterfly effect, there might be a "John Spangler" suffering in the Madness-Verse. That goes for everybody else too.
True, but at least I won't be born until 75 years. My ATL great-grandfather, though, is probably alive.
For me its a little over 80. My ATL Counterpart (If the RU is still around) will either not have a long life, or a very shitty one.
The "Knights of the Round Table?"
Oh.
That works too.