OOC: This RP is a direct continuation from this.



[WARNING: DATA CORRUPTED]

I'm aware what the response of any learned person will be, once they learn of what we managed to pull off in El Salvador, and how we managed to keep it a secret for who knows how long. They'll be, as one could expect from anyone who doesn't blindly follow the preaching of whatever "Fair and Balanced" news station they fancy, informed as to the actual political situation in El Salvador prior to our arrival and subsequent takeover. This doesn't concern me. They can post a million statuses about it on Facebook, linking to valid information and the masses will still only remember one name. And fortunately for us, it won't be Mauricio Funes.

It'll be Farabundo Marti.

History lesson, as I'm sure there's a lot of you who have no idea who Farabundo Marti is despite the fact that whenever we feel it right to drop the news, you won't be able to go a day without hearing it. Marti was the leader of a communist rebellion that attempted to overthrow the ever so delightful Maximiliano Hernandez Martinez. If you knew the first thing about El Salvadorian history, you would know how that would turn out. Failure. After the failed attempt, Martinez conducted a purge on any and all suspected communists in the country and as it would turn out: Marti was one of the commies who died as a result of the purge.

And you all thought that justice required a fair trial where those that stood accused were innocent until proven guilty.

Anyway, moving on to the 80's. Civil war. What do the rebels call themselves? The Farabundo Marti Liberation Front (which somehow abbreviates into the FMLN). The very same FMLN that Funes belonged to before his untimely assassination.

See where the connections are being made? McCarthyism still exists, you know.

Now, back to the troublesome couple of days after wrangling power away from the communists: holding it in face of similar rebellions.

- Sincerely, The Organizer

"And you're sure this is a problem?" I ask, genuinely uninterested in the news that one of the ultimately unimportant soldiers who aided in our takeover of the country is telling me. Tapping the tip of a pen against my lower lip, I start to make note of the subtle motions that he's making. Without listening to a word of his response, I watch his eyes as they dart away from mine, to the pen. Then, to the desk. Then to the floor and so on. Each word he says adds to the distance between our eyes. Knowing full well he can't see it, I smile, dropping the pen to the desk. "Can you repeat that?"

"What? The whole thing?" he asks, eyes widened, body stiff. Just the response I was looking for. I nod my head yes and watch as dejectedly, he already starts to go throw the same motions as last time.

"Well uh, there are some pockets of the FMLN that are still active, in the northwest quadrant of San Salvador." His arms stay stuck to his side, looking as if they were to move, they would pop off his body and fall to the floor. I pick the pen back up and scribble onto a piece of paper "Oh, really?" and rip it out of the note book. For a few seconds, I contemplate handing the paper to him right now, but decide instead to have a little bit of fun before hand.

"Is that so?"

"What, do you think I am making that up?"

"You have to look at it from my point of view: I just got here. I saw none of the fighting. The situation here is jarring to say the least. It'll take a whole lot of convincing before I start to trust anyone. For all I know, you could be trying to get me to get any supporters out of mine out of the area so you can stage a coup."

His eyes widen again, but this was a momentary reaction. He returns to normal, and after clearing his throat shoots back a response: "You have every right to be paranoid, but you have got to trust me. I am not lying to you."

Of course he wasn't. I blink hard, before laying the pen to rest on the desk once more, the piece of paper still resting between my fingertips. "Paranoid? Who said anything about paranoid?"

"Well uh, not to be rude, but you kinda did."

"It's only paranoia when your concerns are founded in anything aside from logic. Logically speaking, we're at our weakest state. Trying to build power, credibility. You've been here the whole time, have you not?"

"One of the first off the boat, ma'am."

"Exactly. Now, how mad were you when you heard that someone not even involved in the fighting was the chosen leader?"

"I'm a military man, not a leader ma'am. It didn't bother me at all." Once again, his eyes wander away from mine. He's definitely a military man, I can sense that much from his obvious lack of experience when it comes to deceit. Fearing that I'll burst out in laughter if I open my mouth to respond, I instead hand the piece of paper to [DATA EXPUNGED], watching him intently as he reads the two word question. His eyes widen once more and his jaw hangs slightly agape. I laugh and produce the gun from inside of my desk, presenting it to him.

"Oh, mister military man? You know what this is, right?"

"Uh, uh."

"You know what's special about this gun, right?"

"That's what you used to kill Funes, right?"

A cold smirk crosses my lips. Now I know what got [DATA EXPUNGED] so excited whenever she was in the position I'm in now. I hold it in my hand and point it right at the man sitting across from me. He grips the arms of the chair he's in tightly as I push the chair I'm out and stand up. My hands are steady, the barrel of the gun pointed right at his stomach.

"Right and wrong. It's the gun I use to eliminate enemies of the state. Mauricio Funes was just the beginning. Now, I have one question."

"Wha-" He's cut off by the sound of a gunshot. A bullet finds its way into his stomach and knocks him back with enough force to topple the chair. He slides out of the chair and skids on the floor. Dammit, I'm going to need to get this carpet cleaned. I walk around the desk and approach where he lay, motionless except for an irregular breathing pattern. The smoke sputters out of the barrel as I lean down beside him.

"Do you go by a nickname? Just wanna get things as accurate as possible for when your name is scribbled on the list of those put down."

No response. I press the barrel of the smoking gun against his head and pull the trigger once more.

Cleanup on aisle six!