as written by Ottoman and Krysis
It was still early in the day, and it was already hot. The beaches sparkled like nothing had happened, and there was only a minor amount of debris in the hushed swells that slid up and down the shore.
On the side of the island where el Presidente had his mansion, it was a different story. Ruined furniture, fallen trees, and bullet strewn corpses were being drawn up on the beach methodically by the exotic folk that lived beneath the waves. Not only out of respect for the fallen and their families, but to keep the debris out of their coral-formed homes a bit further out.
Many businesses were closed in the two towns, but the bars were open. The tourist town was almost empty, the streets echoing with the celebrations and the church bells that were going on in the native area. The few miles of beach, street, crops and jungle between might as well have been a wall. A wall to keep the crazy rebellion away from the tourists that were getting on any transportation they could find, in order to get away.
Somehow or another, Albert wasn't quite certain to begin with but was doubly uncertain now, the Austran had wound up in the thick of the combat of the revolution, and it certainly wasn't what he was looking for. Oh, his superiors had been clear enough in the haphazard briefing they'd given him (which he remembered sounded an awful lot more like a sentencing than a briefing) that his task here, on this world, was a covert, quiet one.
Leading the charge across the grand boulevard wasn't his intention, among a great many other things that weren't, though at least this one he didn't entirely regret - there was no shortage of drinks now, just for that mistake. How was he supposed to know that was the president's palace? It looked like some kind of gaudy train-station, for God's sake.
Of course, people had died following his lead - he refused to think they died because of him, he already had enough deaths on his conscience - but they had taken necessary, vital ground. The ends justified the means, no matter if it was inadvertent.
"... s-so, you know I'm-" The man caught himself mid-sentence, the third time in the last hour, though it was uncertain from what. "... that I'm not, uh... Terran?" It didn't help that he couldn't even remember the nationality that he was meant to pose as, sober or otherwise, as he was now.
"Yeah? So? I mean, if you want us to vilify you as the cause of all our troubles, this can be done. 'Course, in the process, there might be some unpleasantness. Maybe it is better to not protest too much, eh?" The beefy hand of Albert's erstwhile second-in-command accompanied a loud and somehow pleasant laugh. Like many on the island, Jacobo Ortiz embraced life wholeheartedly, and his joy was for all to see and hear.
In the events previous, Jacobo had been the one that had waved for his squad of farmers, armed with antiques and tools, to follow the uptight foreigner. Sure they had not known he was trying to get away. El President's mansion was an unlikely direction to choose. At the time, the main focus of the fighting had moved to the docks behind the mansion, where the aquatic people had been flooding and draining to the point of making a whirlpool in the sheltered cove there. It kept the last of Arce's bodyguards from being able to escape on boats that had become kindling.
Siemens had, unintentionally, claimed the foyer with Jacobo and his men, just in time to keep Arce from fleeing into the streets and hiding out somewhere on the island. Of course, in the process, many of the farmers had died. Of the untrained squad of rebels, only a handful made it to the bar to drink with their new friend, and celebrate the victory.
"Je-te... I'm not protestin'-... I just wanted to know." He managed, blinking a few more times than was necessary as he looked to Ortiz, then to the rest of the farmers.
"Relax, cuz. We know you're from way off. Your clothes, they stink. You let Jacobo fix your wardrobe, eh? Then again, maybe you don't want to look too good, huh? The women, ai-yi-yi." Jacobo rolled his eyes and clutched his chest like he was about to suffer a heart attack.
"You look good, you get married, and then she's got you forever." replied one of the younger ones, fiddling with the plain gold band on his finger as if he regretted it.
"How I know! Even I've got a wife! And look where I am, huh?" Jacobo winked at the boy, and then grinned at Albert.
The lantern-jawed and morose fellow at the end gave a hollow-eyed look, "You could always hook up with the scalemates instead." He paused to spit into the sandy margins of the beach bar, as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. "No decent woman will have you after that."
Half the men exchanged uneasy looks. After all, the merfolk had been their allies in the battle. Was it right to use such a derogatory term for them so soon after lives had been lost?
Albert himself was still struggling to understand how this aquatic, quasi-humanoid race was able to share the area with the more traditional humans, and even moreso now that his mind was swimming with the effects of rum. "M-marriage ain't so bad, y'know. You just have to choose the righte one-..." Though that, in and of itself, was a crusade.
The Austran looked to the man on the end, blinking still far more than he should. "... why not?"
"Because they are unnatural she-devils, that's why." The man at the end narrowed his eyes at Albert as if angry at being questioned.
Jacobo waved his big hands as if shooing away a bad smell, "They aren't as bad as all that! Half the women you talk to might be-- you know. They have the same problem we do, see? Not enough men to go around."
The unpleasant demeanor of the grumpy man was lost on the foreigner, not perturbed or intimidated in the slightest. She-devils - any woman could earn that label, fish-person or not. Instead the officer looked back to Jacobo, nodding a few moments after he finished as he realized what the other said.
"I see. I, uh, I need a job before I can think about... women."
"A job? What kind of job do you want? I think anything you want to do would be available at the moment." Jacobo grinned despite the sadness in his eyes, "Especially if you want to get into the government. We seem to have none at all at the moment!"
"... I want a job, Jacobo, not respondstibilities." Albert replied, nonchalant. Of course, the thought did linger in his mind - he could become a part of the government here, wouldn't that help further his goals, his objectives? Whenever his comrades came - if they ever came - he'd likely get a commendation... Hell, God willing, he might even be knighted.
"B-but, maybe, that isn't such a bad line of work."
"Seriously, cuz? It'd be bad now. No money left, because Arse spent it all on crap that got wrecked in the fighting. Wasn't much good, see?" Jacobo frowned in concern. Of course, if Albert Wanted to run for President, he had five votes for him sitting right there.
"And the shadow lords didn't get involved. The ones that put Arce in position in the first place. That means they are still out there, waiting to pick or put a finger on our next Presidente." The young guy added with a worried tone.
"... we're all pretty sharp guys, I'm sure we can think of some way to make money." The man avoided the term earn, knowing full-well this was the sort of place where honest work wasn't always entirely honest, and if you bothered with honest work, you'd stick where you were. "... shadow lords?" Albert managed, uncertain.
What in Kampf's name was a Shadow Lord? This sounded like the Wochenschau all of a sudden.
The man on the end laughed and shook his head, "He means the drug lords. The ones that want us to grow more 'sugar' and not look too close at it."
Jacobo waved that off as well, "We're just simple farmers. We grow honest crops. Bananas, coffee, coco and, yes, sugar. Anyone that says otherwise is welcome to inspect my fields."
"Plenty of fields that will need more tending after today. I was thinking of hiring some fi-- Some of our new allies to help. All of the Hernadezs are gone, and the Bustos were hurt bad." one of the previously silent men spoke up, then drained his glass and gestured to the bar tender for a refill.
Oh, so they were just people then - no sort of demonic or shady entities that their names belied. Albert's concern seemed to bleed away at that revelation, no longer half as worried as he had been. "Of course, Jacobo. I'd never imply otherwise, though..." The other man's words lingered in his ear, Albert's drunken mind's gears turning slowly, but turning all the same.
"... that is a thought." Which lead to another, one that he kept to himself for a few moments before beginning to broach, wanting to make sure he had his words straight. "Gentelmens, if I may share an idea?" He knew he was a foreigner here but, perhaps he was onto something.
"President Arse is ousted, long may he rot, but the island has suffered terribly in this ven-... venture." Siemens blinked at that, having been staring at the table, soon looking to his comrades. "... many are dead, families mourn. It is a trying time. There might be some who no longer have the capability - or desire - to keep running their businesses. This is a time for ac... ac-... ac-qui-si-tion."