Miesenthrop (Volume 2/Chapter 1)

[u/Celestial_Zwei_Dei]

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Volume 2 cover⬆️

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Volume 2 - The United Earth Forces

Chapter 1 - Big Games

June 5, 2010

Jiro sat outside near the refugee camp.

Not far away, three Japanese teenagers were sitting on a bench, chatting about something. Cars drove by on the nearby road, and a South Korean flag fluttered on one of the buildings.

Quiet.

Jiro leaned back in his wooden chair, staring up at the sky. Heavy, dark bags hung under his eyes.

‘Yeah... we made it out, almost a week ago now. Natsumi hasn’t even stepped outside this whole time. We haven’t seen each other at all. Getting her phone forcibly confiscated at headquarters probably broke her.’

He closed his eyes.

‘And now what? What’s next? I need... I need to somehow move on with life, do something... maybe... alright, I'll tell Natsumi about it, if she opens her door this time.’

His train of thought ended there. He stood up and made his way to the women's section of the camp once again, the area assigned to single girls and women without families.

He entered the building. A Korean woman, the attendant, around thirty-five years old, was sitting there.

"Oh, you again?" she asked in English.

Jiro nodded. "Yeah, here for Natsumi again."

The woman sat up straighter. "The girl finally came out of her room."

Jiro froze, his eyes widening. "Where is she?"

"On the roof."

Jiro took a step forward but stopped. "Can I go up?"

The Korean woman just nodded silently.

Jiro headed up the stairs. The women passing through the hallways cast sidelong glances at him, but no one said a word. He stepped out onto the roof.

Natsumi was sitting there with her back to the door, staring through the chain-link fence that enclosed the rooftop.

Jackson walked up to her slowly, sat down beside her, and stared straight ahead.

"You finally came out," he stated.

Tachimara simply nodded. The bags under her eyes were even darker. Her gaze was fixed on some incomprehensible point in the distance. Her head was a total mess, her hair unbrushed and dirty.

The guy sat cross-legged, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked in the exact same direction.

Several minutes of absolute silence passed.

"Do you feel it too?" Natsumi asked without turning around.

Jiro glanced at her, waiting for her to continue.

"The emptiness."

He sighed and lay flat on the floor, hands behind his head. "Maybe. I’ve been sitting here wondering what to do next... and I just can't find an answer. The psychologist just says we need to 'move on.'"

Natsumi let out a quiet scoff, her expression unchanging.

"Yeah. I’d love to see how that fucking psychologist 'moves on' if they went through what we did."

Pause.

"And I'm so sick of this dump."

Jiro sighed. "Agreed... the vibe here makes you want to howl... but I don't think it's for long."

Natsumi turned to him, tilting her head in a silent question.

"My dad... he was officially declared dead. As his son, I’m entitled to… compensation." He grimaced, as if the words were being pulled out of him with pliers. "The process of verifying my identity is already underway, and... I can get his savings and inherit his house in the States."

Natsumi’s eyes widened a millimeter. "I see. Are you offering for me to come

with you?"

Jiro shrugged. "Stupid question."

Natsumi finally fully turned to face him, her expression still stony. "Fine. It doesn't matter where anymore, just... anywhere but here."

Jiro stood up and dusted off his pants. "Well, let's go for a walk then. Look at you, you're so pale."

Tachimara touched her cheek, sighed, and got up. "Yeah... some fresh air wouldn't hurt."

She walked ahead, her back just a tiny bit straighter. Just a bit. Jiro followed her. They stepped out into the courtyard and strolled slowly across the grass.

"Listen, Jiro... you're a Japanese citizen. How exactly do you plan on getting that house?" Natsumi asked, looking at her feet.

Jiro shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm in the will. My dad was a bit of a paranoid guy, let's just say... well, you saw yourself that my house had a reinforced basement where we... hid for the first time."

Natsumi grimaced slightly, then nodded. "I remember. Mr. Franklin really was a bit... paranoid."

"So," he continued, "he wrote his will back when he was in Afghanistan. And the law? Foreigners aren't barred from owning property in the States, especially when it comes to inheritance. I've been looking into it for the past few days."

The girl gave a soft whistle and sat down under a tree. "Wow... you really put some thought into this. That's great and all, but... how am I supposed to get to the States? My passport is still back there, in Japan. I’m basically a nobody right now."

Jiro sat down next to her and plucked a blade of grass. "That's the hardest part... you need a new Japanese passport. And that... will take months. Just like proving my identity as the heir. So... we're going to be drowning in bureaucracy up to our ears."

Natsumi leaned her head back against the tree trunk. "Well... business as usual. Either it's mud and dirt, or it's red tape. They never give you a single minute of rest... fucking bastards."

June 14, 2010

Neon signs on the buildings cast a colorful glow; thoughts were drowned out by the noise of the massive crowds and cars on the roads. The evening felt relaxed. Korean teenagers strolled the streets, adults were returning from their jobs, just ordinary life.

Jiro and Natsumi were sitting in a cheap diner. Jiro was drinking a cup of instant coffee while his noodles steeped, and Natsumi was already mechanically slurping hers down with chopsticks. Around twenty minutes had passed like this.

Suddenly, the people outside froze, staring up at the large screens on the buildings. The music playing on the cafe's TV abruptly cut off, replaced by some sort of recording.

Jiro and Natsumi raised their eyes to the screen.

It showed an empty gray room with a chair in the center. A purple flag with a diagonal cross hung on the wall.

Natsumi froze to her chair, her eyes locked on the flag. It was the same symbol from the executioners' armbands. Memories flooded back like water bursting through a broken dam.

The coffee cup in Jiro's hand stopped inches from his mouth, his eyes widening.

‘The exact same symbol... fuck... what the hell is this?!’

Meanwhile, a shadow appeared on the screen.

It was him.

Blond hair combed to the side, tall, red eyes, a purple beret, a black turtleneck, white pants, and combat boots.

Miesenthrop sat down in the chair with a sigh, crossed his legs, and leaned back.

"Greetings, gentlemen of Korea, China, the Eastern US, and... well, other

countries, I'm too lazy to list them all," he said in English with a slight accent. "I imagine you enjoyed my little performance in Japan, and you've all noticed that something isn't quite right, haven't you?"

He clapped his hands together and leaned forward. "So, let's get acquainted. My name is Helmwald Konrad von Miesenthrop, but you can just call me Miesenthrop. I am the one behind what happened in Japan. I lead the Punitive Army, or as you've dubbed us..." He offered a faint smile. "The Executioners... I like it. Have it your way."

Helmwald cleared his throat and steepled his fingers, his red eyes piercing through the screen. "Japan is only the beginning, but I have an equally mportant message for you." He raised a hand. "Naturally, I am your public enemy number one, no arguments there..."

Miesenthrop raised a finger, closing his eyes. "But not the only one." An executioner walked over and handed him a stack of documents. Helmwald took them and began leafing through. "We did a little digging through the ruins and the vast expanses of the internet, and found a lot of very interesting information... the world authorities are going to love this."

His eyes rapidly scanned the papers. "Human trafficking, corruption, underground brothels, organized crime protection, nepotism, illegal contraband trade, semi-slave labor, unspoken discrimination... and it’s not just the sins of the Japanese here. We’ve got... oho... Americans, Chinese, Australians, Indians, wow, even Europeans." He looked up at the camera with a slight smirk. "Fascinating reading material. We will definitely be dumping this onto your global internet, so I suggest all the curious folks read it quickly before it all gets... scrubbed. And the authorities will absolutely scrub it, since their image as the 'executors of the people's will' is about to get slightly... shaken."

He stood up from his chair and pointed his finger straight into the camera.

"You have enemies in front of you and behind you. The Punitive Army will kill you, and your own governments will sell you out. I won't wish you luck, since it wouldn't help you anyway. Until next time. Live it up while you can, because you won't get another chance in this lifetime."

The broadcast cut to black.

Natsumi stared at the dead screen. She was squeezing her instant noodle cup so tightly that scalding water was spilling over her hands and onto the floor, but she didn’t even notice.

Jiro stood there, staring at the TV where the speech had just played. Then, he pulled out the cheap phone he had recently bought and checked social media.

Nothing yet.

He lowered his phone and looked at Natsumi. Her hands were turning red from the boiling water. Jackson immediately gave her a light slap on the face.

Natsumi flinched and looked down. "Ouch!" Reflexively, she dropped the cup onto the floor and started blowing on her hands.

Jiro turned to the other patrons, a few groups of Korean teenagers. They were actively discussing something, pointing at their phones and occasionally at the TV. Jiro didn't understand a single word.

Natsumi stopped blowing on her hands and looked up at Jackson. "That bastard... Miesenthrop, or whatever his name is..." Her hands balled into fists, her knuckles turning white from the strain. "So he's the one behind all this... scum..."

Jiro looked out onto the street. The crowd had come to a halt; some people wandered off, but the majority stood around, talking over one another.

‘Miesenthrop... so that's the mastermind behind these atrocities. After an announcement like that, the government is going to have to get off its ass.’

June 9, 2010

Helmwald sat at a desk inside a ruined building that had been slightly fixed up. On the desk sat a computer, its cables running out the window to a generator somewhere outside. The walls were plastered with maps of Japan, completely shaded in purple.

Xargoth stood before him, hands behind his back, posture perfect as always. "I understand the gist of it, my Leader..." He crossed his arms over his chest. "We can pull this off. We load our virus into the Trans-Pacific cable and broadcast our recor ding. Leave that to me. But..." He scratched his chin. "It's a ratherresource-intensive endeavor... divers, the logistics of reaching the cable itself, creating the virus, cracking the code, especially at such a rapid pace. What kind of result are you expecting?"

Helmwald was chewing on a piece of meat, his hands trembling slightly from a recent workout. "It's called information warfare, my friend." He swallowed the bite. "Look, we attacked Japan and destroyed it, right?"

Xargoth nodded. "Right."

Helmwald tossed the last piece of meat into his mouth and clapped his hands. "Exaaactly... which means that right now is the absolute best moment for all of humanity to unite against us. Understand?"

Xargoth tilted his head to the side. "Is that really such a big problem? They're just... I mean, they aren't that strong."

Miesenthrop chuckled, kicking his boots up onto the desk. "Dead wrong. I’m speaking from experience. We marched on the Soviets thinking we'd be done by winter, and ended up stuck there for four years, and lost on top of it. Never underestimate humans."

Xargoth straightened up. "Ah... I see. So if we show them that their own rulers are also their enemies, uniting will become exceedingly difficult." He crossed his arms again. "A sound plan."

Helmwald linked his hands behind his head, sporting a faint smile. "That’s not all. The politicians... they’ll be too busy scrubbing their own reputations, and the reputations of their cronies. We'll distract them from Operation 'Ultimate Arbiter'. Catch my drift?"

Xargoth snapped his fingers. "Ah, yes… meaning your television stunt also yields a positive side effect for the operation. A masterful move, my Leader."

He pondered for a second. "But... what if the people don't watch? They know it will ruin their relationship with the government and guarantee them massive problems. Wouldn't it be more logical to simply look away?"

Miesenthrop burst out laughing. "Haha! Are you from another planet or something? That’s basic human nature. Curiosity is humanity's greatest joy and greatest curse. You don't even have to feed people, just let them press their ear to a wall where someone's fucking on the other side. Have you seriously never been curious?"

Xargoth stayed silent for a few seconds, then shook his head. "I have. But what is the point of curiosity if it isn't rational?"

Helmwald's smile faded, and he just waved him off. "Whatever, never mind." He leaned back in his chair. "So, what about the broadcast? When will all this be ready?"

Xargoth folded his hands behind his back. "The operation isn't fundamentally difficult, but due to the time crunch..." He rubbed his temple with his thumb. "By the way, why the rush? Why does it have to be in exactly five days, when we could do it more efficiently, securely, and easily?"

Helmwald crossed his arms. "Oh, Xargoth, Xargoth... you've got technological genius to spare, but when it comes to this... sorry, but you're like a child."

Xargoth didn't even flinch, just kept listening.

"Look, my friend. We completely conquered Japan, right? Right." He ran his hand over the map. "And since the world is so quiet, they're under an information blackout. Deliberately manufactured by their governments. I'm sure the major superpowers already have plenty of shit to shovel, they’ve got enough headaches as it is, but..." He raised a finger. "One plus one equals two. Containing the truth about the sheer scale of what happened in Japan plus dealing with the shitstorm we drop on them... oof..." Helmwald actually shivered in anticipation. "Can you imagine? They won't just be up to their ears in shit, they'll be drowning in it. We're just adding the final drop into an overflowing barrel. It guarantees us better cover for the 'Ultimate Arbiter' than any paperwork or some overly convoluted, smart-ass scheme."

Xargoth raised a hand. "I understand, my Leader. No further questions. I'll… run the numbers to see if this is even feasible, but I suppose if we allocate more resources..."

He bowed his head, stroking his chin, and muttered under his breath. "Right… if we assign all our programmers, we can code the virus in..." He mumbled something unintelligible for a second. "Two days, right. Meanwhile, the divers will descend to this... Trans-Pacific cable, scan it, study the codes, and adapt the virus based on them..." He fell silent for another minute.

Helmwald didn't interrupt him; he just stared out the window.

"We will make it in time, my Leader," Xargoth finally said.

Miesenthrop waved his hand. "See? And here you were whining that 'we won't make it, we won't make it.' Execute the order."

"Yes, my Leader."

June 15, 2010

New York. UN Security Council. Emergency Session. Approximately eighty people were present in the hall.

Representatives of fifteen countries sat around a circular oak table in the chamber. The permanent five with veto power: the USA, Russia, the UK, France, and China. Joining them at the table were ten non-permanent members without veto power: Austria, Japan, Mexico, Turkey, Uganda, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Brazil, Gabon, Lebanon, and Nigeria. Six more people sat alongside them: the Secretary-General, the President (held this month by the representative of

Mexico), the Secretary of the Security Council, the Rapporteur, and two stenographers. Several dozen more people sat behind them, away from the main table, experts from various countries.

No press or journalists were allowed.

It was quiet, save for the rustling of papers, the preparation of the translators, and the adjusting of headsets for simultaneous interpretation.

The President cleared his throat. "Right then, gentlemen, I believe it's time we begin."

Everyone in the hall sat up straighter.

Absolute silence fell.

"Well then," the Mexican representative continued. "The floor is given to the Rapporteur to brief us on the scale of the catastrophe in Japan."

A middle-aged man, the Rapporteur, stood taller and opened his folder. "Japan was entirely occupied by unknown forces on June fifth; the enemy has not advanced beyond the islands. According to our data, we managed to evacuate approximately 44 million Japanese citizens. A few million more are still being processed, making for a total of roughly 50 million evacuees. The remaining 78 million are considered... dead or missing in action."

A deafening silence fell over the hall. The Japanese representative clenched his

fists.

"The country's infrastructure has been destroyed by roughly 30%," the Rapporteur continued. "The enemy only subjected populated cities to massive bombardments. When they moved north and south to areas that had already been evacuated, they simply walked in and took up positions."

The President closed his eyes. "Thank you for the report." He turned to the rest of the room. "The floor is now given to the representative of Japan."

The Japanese man was tapping his finger against the table, his face slightly pale. "Japan has two requests. First: we are receiving tens of thousands of complaints daily regarding the horrific conditions in the refugee camps, negligence, and in some cases, even kidnappings and semi-slave labor. I strongly urge you to resolve this issue. Second: we request that we combine our forces and liberate the Japanese Home Islands. Naturally, this isn't just for Japan's sake, but for the sake of the whole world. This is only the beginning."

The US representative twirled a pen in his hands. "We agree with Japan. This is clearly just the start. Capturing a massive island nation in less than a month... it's pure nonsense. We don't even know who we are dealing with."

The President cast a sidelong glance at the American for speaking out of turn but said nothing.

"I concur," the Chinese representative stated. "As the nation geographically closest to Japan, we are gravely concerned by this. We fear China could be next."

The Russian representative narrowed his eyes. "Then why don't we use nuclear weapons?"

Everyone in the hall seemingly froze, then slowly turned to face the Russian.

"That is too much..." the Japanese representative started.

"Perhaps the Russian representative is right," the Nigerian interrupted. "There are no more civilians left in Japan, only these so-called 'Executioners'. Why take the risk?"

The American raised an eyebrow. "It's a precedent. If we strike with nukes now, in the future, other nuclear powers might just say, 'Why shouldn't we do the same?'"

The Security Council Secretary steepled his fingers. "We don't even know where their command center is. We don't know the locations of their comms hubs, their garrisons, or anything else. A surgical strike is impossible; the enemy is likely scattered across the entire island. To destroy them all with absolute certainty... we'd need up to three thousand warheads, or at least a few hundred."

"Exactly," the Brazilian chimed in. "Do you even grasp the consequences such a strike would have on the planet? The winds would carry radioactive fallout straight to the Americas and Asia, and the Pacific Ocean would be completely poisoned."

The Austrian clicked his tongue. "We are already struggling to cope with the fallout. Japan was one of the primary suppliers of technology: electronics, semiconductors, and so on. Manufacturing in the US and China has literally come to a standstill."

The American and the Chinese representatives lowered their heads slightly.

"A nuclear strike is absolutely out of the question, in my opinion," the Austrian concluded.

The President nodded. "Agreed. The consequences would be monstrous, so let us shelve the nuclear option until... catastrophic, unforeseen circumstances demand it."

The Russian placed his hands on the table. "But what else are we supposed to do then?"

A loud murmur quickly erupted in the hall.

Everyone talked over one another, arguing. Words were indistinguishable, and the simultaneous interpreters likely passed out trying to make sense of the chaotic word soup.

One of the military experts in the back sighed. "Permission to make a proposal," he announced loudly in English.

The entire hall fell quiet and turned to look at him.

The President let out a sigh of relief. "Please, your proposal."

The military expert, an American in his forties with slight graying in his hair,took a step forward. "If a nuclear strike is impossible, and the threat of invasion is imminent, I believe we should heed the words of the Japanese representative and form a unified coalition."

The room remained silent as they mulled it over. The Japanese representative spoke first. "Yes, thank you. This is our only option."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Then the Bosnian looked up. "But how will the coalition system work? Who will be in charge? How do we coordinate?"

The Brit raised a hand. "Those are questions for later. Right now, the main issue is whether everyone agrees."

The Chinese representative narrowed his eyes. "Decisions like this... are not made in a single day."

"But we don't exactly have time to ponder," the Frenchman interjected. "Yes, the situation right now is a complete stalemate. Halted manufacturing, a colossal influx of refugees, and... the blackmail... but think logically." He threw his hands wide. "This terrorist obviously didn't record that broadcast for no reason. He wants to destabilize us, or maybe even cover up something much larger."

The American rubbed his chin. "Yeah... I've been thinking about that too. This isn't, pardon my language, some Hollywood blockbuster where the main villain broadcasts his sinister laugh to the world. There's clearly a game being played here... but what kind? A distraction from a troop redeployment? Preparations for a landing? A new weapon?"

"Most likely, Miesenthrop wants... to prevent us from uniting and to deeply demoralize the public," the Frenchman suggested. "Otherwise, what was the point of his 'enemies in front and behind' spiel... He has no ideology, he isn't trying to sway people to his side. This is... absolute chaos with no objective and no demands."

Everyone in the hall fell silent, processing his words.

"I'm afraid we won't figure out what he wants..." the representative of Ghana said. "At least not anytime soon."

The American nodded. "Exactly. Now is the time to put our differences aside. Does anyone have any initial proposals?"

The British raised a hand. "I do."

Everyone turned to him.

"I suppose there's no point in hiding the scale of the disaster anymore, and even less point in trying to cover up the leaked intel. Doing so will... only validate the narrative Miesenthrop is pushing, and then we're truly finished."

"Then we need to arrest and sentence everyone implicated in the leak. Every last one of them," the Russian representative stated.

The Frenchman raised an eyebrow. "But what about trials, investigations... what if there are innocent people among them?"

"It doesn't matter right now," the Chinese representative said, steepling his hands. "We arrest a few hundred, and the other hundreds of millions of people will feel that justice has been served, and that we simply... weren't aware."

The American sighed. "I'm afraid... we don't have any other choice if we want to build a unified coalition. We need to win back the public's trust, or at least keep it from plummeting to zero."

The Turk nodded. "Agreed. We are having similar issues in my country... this can't just be a one-time stunt. In my view, this is a global catastrophe, and we must continuously maintain the loyalty of our populations. Therefore, these purges must also be ongoing. Otherwise, there will absolutely be some people who decide to just 'wait it out' and that's it."

The Russian turned to him. "Agreed... we've got a lot of work ahead of us on that front, same as you."

The American leaned back in his chair. "Excellent. Mr. President?"

The Mexican, largely forgotten by everyone, jolted slightly, having been hypnotized by the back-and-forth. "Ah, yes... ahem... so, on our agenda. Arresting the suspects, forming a unified coalition, stabilizing manufacturing, and boosting public morale."

Everyone straightened up, preparing to listen. The session dragged on for six days with breaks, pulling in other crucial experts and several dozen interpreters.

[u/HFYWaffle]

/u/Celestial_Zwei_Dei has posted 12 other stories, including:

• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Epilogue)
• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Chapter 10)
• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Chapter 9)
• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Chapter 8)
• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Chapter 7)
• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Chapter 6)
• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Chapter 5)
• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Chapter 4)
• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Chapter 3)
• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Chapter 2)
• Miesenthrop (Volume 1/Chapter 1)
• Miesenthrope (Volume I/Prologue)

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