Collide Gamer

Epiphanies flowed into regular events fluently – very fluently.

John hadn’t even separated from Stirwin when his Ambassador Double was called to action at the Harbour. Another ceremonial barge was drifting up the stream, the visitor in question having arrived just ten minutes ago. He had demanded a swift arrival on the main island.

John loathed being ordered at the best of times, a fact that was doubled in his home and tripled due to current circumstances. Though he did swallow immediate disdain, he was going to plot revenge in the future. As far as he was concerned, making a better world for his children included letting everyone know that their father wouldn’t be disrespected. Just for now, he needed Osman to be appeased though. He had agreed to the scheme of the Horned Rat and that made them allies of convenience.

Unlike Osman, John wouldn’t mistreat his allies – not until he was done with them anyway.

Rave was not on-site, too busy socializing elsewhere in these vast festivities. Ironically, John was seeing a lot less of her than usual these last couple of days. That only added to the growing yearning he had for that fateful kiss in his near future.

While Fusion’s first empress was not present, the chancellor was. Momo waited for him in the middle of the cleared street, a hand on her hip and an eyebrow raised. “Three bodies and you still manage to be almost late,” she sassed.

“By that logic, it only makes sense that you arrive before me.” John put his arm around her waist, palm brushing over the fine cloth of her maid uniform. The indent of her curve was glorious, emphasized by the cocked swing of her wide hips. A gentle wave of relaxation travelled through her, the presence of his hand enough to make her subconsciously sway an inch closer to him. The entire crowd gathered by the ornate pier could see just how close they were.

John squeezed a little more on her love handle to emphasize that fact.

“I suppose.” She put a finger on his chest. “Still could have parked one of you a little closer to me.”

“Yearning for me that much?” he asked teasingly.

“Yeah!” Despite the ready admittance, the sassy maid’s face turned a light shade of red at her own word. “I like you. Three days in separate beds has been torture. Shut up.”

John pursed his lips in amusement. “I wasn’t saying anything.”

“Shaddup!” the fairy insisted, all while getting on her toes.

The flutter of wings saved Momo from a series of kisses. A little disappointed pucker echoed from the little minx. Her body wiggled tighter into his embrace, while his attention shifted to the woman that had just landed besides him.

The goddess of the night’s dress settled, the impressive layers of her practically short skirt stopping just south of where her human thighs transitioned into her bird legs. In all her pale and purple goth glory, she rose quite starkly against the backdrop of the green grass and crowd of regular people behind her, all of it illuminated by the early afternoon sun.

“My patriarch.” Nightingale bowed her head in greeting, before stepping up into his other arm without hesitation. Her readiness to be loved was rewarded with an immediate kiss on her black lips. “I hope I arrived in time?”

The question reached his ears while Momo grabbed his face with both hands and ‘forced’ him to give her a smooch as well. “There!” she spat out, as if there had been a dare going on. Her pout was just adorable.

“The only one out of his proper time here is Osman,” John muttered lowly, despite the lack of protective enchantments. If someone was listening in on this exchange, they could know about his annoyance. Perhaps it would reach the prince of the Great Sultanate, coaxing an apology out of him before John put his little revenge into motion. “Where is Nathalia?”

“She chose to abstain from this meeting,” the second of Fusion’s two patron goddesses whispered back.

“Probably for the best,” John muttered. “Her patience would be tested immensely.”

The trio turned their attention to the Harbour, where the ceremonial barge finally anchored.

Osman was, as per usual, accompanied by two women. They took advantage of the high temperature of the Guild Hall, wearing satin sashes across their breasts and pants of such wispy material that only the tightly sitting thongs truly hid their womanhoods. One wore red, the other blue, one was covered in gold the other in silver. They both had dark hair and skin that the sun had kissed down to the genome. Veils covered the lower halves of their faces, an odd choice when so much else about their slender bodies was exposed.

Though the veils were present, John all the same knew that these were not the same women that Osman had shown up with before. Fundamentally, the Gamer was in no position to call someone out for rotating the women they appeared in public with.

Osman stepped out of the barge first, helped the two women out next, then put his arms around them in a similar fashion to how John stood. The first prince of the Great Sultanate crossed the distance between them, his long strides urging the women to keep pace. They were quite small compared to the tall, dark-haired prince. He seemed to pay little mind to the way he borderline dragged them along.

“Emperor Newman,” he greeted John. “Pleasure to meet you with an honest title.”

“Prince Osman,” John responded in kind, doing his best to bite back his venom. “I did not expect you to show.”

“I did not expect to attend, initially,” the prince responded fluently.

“Well, we can talk more about that on the way to your quarters,” John said and turned around.

For the sake of appearances, the Gamer walked slowly enough that Osman could talk to him if he wanted to. John was grateful that he did not try. The prince hung behind him and his two haremettes, just taking in the ceremony that played out around them. Pompous music was played, military displays held, and elemental magic woven. It was all visual splendour, put up in a haste that none outside the planning committee noticed.

They reached the car and entered. Nightingale and Momo stuck with him immediately. Osman’s escorts remained by the door of the car, until he leisurely waved them inside. The two trios sat on opposite benches inside the limo.

“We have privacy now,” the goddess of the night informed them.

“You retain wise arrangements,” Osman said to John.

Momo groaned, Nightingale gave the foreign prince an unimpressed glance, John bit his tongue. ‘This is exactly why it’s good that Nathalia isn’t here,’ he thought. “Can we talk in front of them?”

“Their entire bloodlines are tied to my success.” Osman smacked the thigh of the blue-silver clad of the two women. She yelped in mild pain, then giggled with sweetness both genuine and overplayed. That was the only verbalization she dared to make. Unlike the women by John’s side, those two were arm candy through and through.

They were content with that position. Relaxed, they played with the tassels of Osman’s ornate outfit, a mixture of Middle Eastern aesthetics and a modern suit. Nothing about the venerating motions indicated stress. They were in their position entirely of their own will. Simultaneously, it was all mechanical and too respectful, devoid of the little teases and mindless focuses that came with love.

Beyond his absent-minded groping, Osman did not seem to acknowledge their existence. Same went for the beauties at John’s side, who the prince did not pay even a stray glance to. That, more than the manner by which he had arrived, nearly pushed the Gamer to the point of kicking Osman out of the car and making him crawl back the way he came.

‘It’s fine,’ Momo informed him mentally. ‘We can do that after we got the other matters sorted.’

‘Right.’ John’s response was sharp. The cost of humiliating Osman here would be stark indeed. He would not only add complications to the Horned Rat’s plans, but also introduce additional hurdles to his takeover of Akkad. Little as he liked it, continuing to oblige the prince’s arrogance was the proper path – for now.

“Are you going to stay silent forever?” Osman asked.

“I am sorting my words,” John lied. “I have learned that we have areas of shared interest in the near future.”

Osman raised an eyebrow. “One could say so. Why do you mention it? Our entanglements in that scheme are entirely separated from one another. God willing, we shall not interact until its conclusion.”

“There are two complicating factors to this,” John said. “One is that the distraction I shall provide will be near or potentially within the borders of the Great Sultanate.”

“…Is that so?” Osman sounded less than enthused about that. “Where and what?”

“I will reveal neither to you at this juncture. Momo,” he let the name linger for a moment, “is not ready to share her brilliant discovery yet.”

For the first time, Osman’s gaze flitted to the chancellor. It was a brief acknowledgement, barely that much. “You allocate your resources well, if it’s something that can distract even the twins.”

‘My Momo is not a resource you… gah!’ John shouted in his head. He knew that Osman was better than his father, but that only excused so much. Women only deserved to be treated as commodities after a safe word was established! That was the proper way to run the world. “Beyond that, I also wish to invite you to a plan about another issue.”

Osman was savvy enough to know what he was talking about immediately. “Your spurious ‘claim’ to Akkad, no doubt.”

“It’s hardly spurious,” John returned.

“It is 4000 years old.”

Nightingale opened her mouth, then closed it, knowing that her words would fall on deaf ears anyhow. Well, Osman would not care for her council. That was his loss, one that John would not share. “What do you want to say?” he prompted her.

“The claim is ancient. It is also the only legitimate one standing,” the harpy told John. “The last Abyssals to live on that land were the inheritors of Akkad. Between their dusk and this dawn, only the Lorylim and explorers roamed there. The Great Sultanate has no true claim to that land.”

“Legalese nonsense,” Osman dismissed it all out of hand. “Fusion has no investment in that land.”

“You know who organized the emergency expeditions to retain the ruins there? That was me! I did that!” Momo exclaimed.

“And who guided those expeditions? Provided them with food, shelter and supplies?” Osman immediately shot back.

“We paid you!”

“Of course you did, as one should for good work.” A dismissive gesture put the topic to rest, from Osman’s perspective. “Here are the facts: the number of people alive today that would look at Mesopotamia and say it should belong to the one crowned as Sargon’s heir is negligible. All the public will see is Fusion establishing a colony on the other side of the world. Especially since the Awakened in that area have nothing in common with you, culturally.”

That was the strongest argument Osman had in favour of the Great Sultanate’s claim. If the area had still been devoid of Abyssals, Fusion staking a claim there would have no local opposition. It would be like a current world power claiming an extra slice of Antarctica. Sure, there’d be some problems on the political stage, but there were none of the usual headaches that came with conquest.

Awakened complicated that a whole lot, especially since they would be primarily Iraqis – not exactly a people John expected to react well to the idea of an American emperor touching down on their soil. He anticipated that he could soften that blow through greater competence and the installation of viceroys. Less tanks, more local autonomy.

Still, projecting and holding power on the other side of the globe on the basis of the words of Metra and Ehtra would be seen as legitimate by few. Fortunately, those few tended to be the ancient and powerful beings in charge of the major factions of the Abyss, so he had that going for him.

There was a stronger piece of leverage that he could put to work against Osman though.

“Let’s say I acknowledge that Fusion has no good claim to that land.” He kept his tone lofty, making it heard that he was speaking in the hypothetical. “Does the Great Sultanate really have an… interest in introducing this many people to the Abyss?”

Osman’s gaze remained steady, despite the implication made. For all John cared, the pure physical proximity gave the fellow member of the Divided Gates a greater claim to that clay (to put in Polandball terms). In all political affairs, the question of how justified something may be was secondary to how feasible it was.

The unspoken question was: could the Great Sultanate withstand stretching its administration like that?

“I supposed I could carry to my father the sultan a few… suggestions for the proper handling of the area,” Osman responded slowly. “Some might include a shared stake in that land?”

“That sounds like a good starting position,” John agreed. “We can give it some more thought. There will be other people involved in that discussion. I have no intent to push Fusion’s borders further without the consent of the international community.”

That was half a lie. With the collapse of the Purest Front, Nahoa’s plan to push south into middle America was a lot less risky. Fusion had an entire hemisphere to act as the superpower in, which was a whole lot of wiggle room. That was not John’s plan though, he was just going along with it and he would try to get the consent of the international community where he could. Except for the one, upcoming time where he would deliberately agitate Krieg, of course.

The car came to a gentle halt. Doors opened. Ehtra waited outside. Though the First of Hatred remained as cordial as a maid ought to during official business, she allowed her disdain to manifest in a lack of respectful gestures. No bowed head, no greeting, no nothing for Osman, just a curt, “Follow me to your quarters.”

“I will call you when it is time,” the Gamer told the Middle Eastern man.

“I have my own agenda, but I will keep your ideas in mind,” he responded.

John let the man get away with having the last word. It was the easiest annoyance to swallow. Osman followed Ehtra and the two dancers in turn followed him. Though the prince moved with a deeply ingrained sense of superiority, the Gamer knew Ehtra could skewer him in an instant. He took solace in that fact. He also hoped she wouldn’t do it.

It would cause a bit of a stir.