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Thursday, 18 August 2016

The New Cold War An Arc 2 Fiction

The New Cold War

An Arc 2 Fiction

Alexander Gordon Jahans

A short fat bald fellow with tiny hands, an obvious ginger wig and way too much spray tan is being interviewed at a press conference. “Ladies, I am telling you it is yuge and it only gets yuger...”

A young American reporter of Senegalese descent cries out “Richmond Raspberry, I’m with the Daily Socialist, how does it feel to be the official Republican Nominee to be president of the United States of America? Particularly now many in the Republican party are coming out against you and in favour of Margaret May.”

The oversized Oompaloompa in a too tight suit grins like a fat cat. “Well I am honored, truly honored. the Republican party is the party of the working people and, indeed, the socialists. It always has been. My learned colleagues are just trying to be fair to the democratic nominee in the name of promoting democracy. After all with all the talk of me being some kind of demagogue it is important to reassure people that the republican party is the true party of democracy. Even if the supposed democrats shived the honorable Bernie Sanders in the back.”

The reporter smirks. “You’re socialists? Really? I thought that was a dirty word, particularly among billionaires and republicans?”

Raspberry’s smile falters for a moment then it spreads wider, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Oh my dear the Republicans have always been the national party of the socialists and we are very committed to the purity of our ideals. Under us America will be great again.”

Reporter’s faze turns to silent horror.

Raspberry nods, repeating jovial. “I am very serious. We are the national party of the socialists and we will see that all the poor black communities within our country are taken care of.”

“Senior Raspberry!!!” cries a voice.

Raspberry’s gaze and the cameras of the reporters sweep around to wear a man with sunglasses, a long flowing beard and a suit typically associated with Arab sheiks, stands.

Raspberry extends his hands wide toward the stranger. “Welcome, friend, how may I help you?”

The stranger nods approaching through the pack of reporters. “Thank you! Praise be to Galla that I may speak to you. I represent a small online publication deeply concerned with certain esoteric matters that would not usually be concerned with politics. However there is one small area of some concern that I could use your help with.”

Raspberry chuckles, gripping the side of his podium. “Well go ahead. I am well known to be very helpful and wise in even the most esoteric of matters.”

The stranger looks up at the short man on the stage and smiles a sharks toothy smile. “Good... Because you see I have heard talk among the left that voting for May is like voting for the devil over cthulu.”

“Well you may think that but I couldn’t possibly comment” said Raspberry with a smile.

The stranger chuckles. “It is a good meme. Very dank... But tell me, for the sake of my loyal readers, could you take cthulu in a fight, could you truly take on the devil himself.”

Raspberry and the press before him laugh.

The stranger doesn’t, watching Raspberry with cold focus.

Raspberry notices and smiles warmly. “Well I am a good Christian boy so I know how to deal with the devil and as for Cthulu, well if it bleeds we can kill it.”

The stranger nods. “But do you not bleed?”

The room falls silent. The men in suits and shades silently standing beside and either side of Raspberry leave the stage.

Raspberry changes ever so slightly, the bravado shrugged off to be replaced with a cold calculating business man. “I do bleed. I bleed for my country with my every heart beat but I won’t leave this world unchanged. I am not a dictator. This is America, I am but a servant of the people and if I do die my supporters, my friends, will rage like fire across whoever removed their champion from the world. You cannot kill an idea, only silence one of its speakers.”

The stranger nods. “Well my readers will be very pleased to hear that.”

The stranger turned as if to go then he froze removed his shades and started cleaning them with hanky. “We will meet again Mister Raspberry and when we do I hope I can thank you properly for this kindness.”

The stranger looked up into Richard Raspberry’s eyes for a moment.

Richard Raspberry looked into the eyes of the stranger and saw a great green infinite stretching into eternity. For a moment he could see a crashing space ship and great mechanical spiders as men and women fought valiantly against them.

Then the stranger put on his glasses and left the room. Two large men in suits and sunglasses were standing either side of them. One of them quietly said. “If you’d just come this way, Sir.”

The stranger smiled awkwardly.


The stranger was thrown violently into an interview room. He had been stripped down his underwear with hand cuffs and chains about his feet. He was a tall Caucasian guy with short brown hair.

There was a large metal table in the room and a couple of metal chairs. At one of them sat a short austere looking woman with grey curly hair in a business suit. She was looking over a file on a tablet pc. “William Shepard Crichton, aged 24, killed with one Lucille Dance, aged 22, by a cowboy on the 20th of August 2019. It is now the 12th of February 2023, would you care to explain how it is you managed to interview the man who could be the next American President 4 years after your death.”

The stranger found his way to a chair and said. “You’re English, like proper Queen’s English. how is it that you are interviewing me when America is such a hotbed of xenophobia.”

The old woman smirked. “Well lets just say that when people who struggle to comprehend race come across something really strange, they outsource.”

“So who am I speaking to?” asked the stranger.

The old woman glared at him. “Who I am is none of your business.”

The stranger shook his head. “I have the right to know who I’m addressing. Russia? Korea? China? New Scotland?”

The old woman chuckled. “Dead men have no rights, Mister Crichton. Now tell me, why aren’t you dead?”

The stranger smirked. “Okay... I am the Farsh-nuke, the Great Farsh-nuke now that the first died to secure the end of the last great Septagonoid war. That cowboy didn’t just kill me, he saved me from a fate far worse than death and he brought me back.”

The old woman nodded, tapping away at her tablet pc. “There are records of a Farsh-nuke in our database but according to our intel they all have a penchant for adventure, monsters and pretty girls. If you were bought back, why stick around? Shouldn’t you have built yourself a way off this rock by now?”

The Farsh-nuke bit his lip and stared at the old woman.

“I asked you a question, Mister Crichton, must we resort to advanced interrogation techniques?” asked the old woman.

The Farsh-nuke looked the old woman in the eyes. “It’s a funny thing really, as the war waged and the Farsh-nukes threw themselves into the meat grinder of the the front lines they amplified their powers, began to reconnect with the other parts of their souls, almost shed the human skin except for nostalgia’s sake. Everything that contained the soul of a Farsh-nuke started to be felt and remembered by the rest.”

“Oh really?” said the old woman with a smirk. “Have any juicy gossip to share?”

The Farsh-nuke nodded. “I remember the Venus Trap.”

The Farsh-nuke sat back in his chair watching the old woman.

“According to our reports you gave praise to a Galla when you were interviewing Raspberry?” said the old woman.

The Farsh-nuke nodded. “Galla Placidia, the creator of the Venus Trap and by far the most powerful of the elder gods since she never had to give up her power. I always wondered why she never joined in the war or at least the final battle.”

“Perhaps she saw that the multiverse would still need protecting when you were gone?” suggested the old woman.

The Farsh-nuke nodded then he looked her in the eyes and asked. “Can I trust you?”

The old woman leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I assure you that everything you say here is entirely confidential.”

The Farsh-nuke leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. “I’m worried about Raspberry and about the threat posed by his supporters, the alt-right. I’m an alien, sod dna, my physics is unnatural to this universe. Those racists would destroy me and everyone I care about.”

“That’s democracy.” said the old woman with a shrug.

The Farsh-nuke shook his head. “I destroyed the Septagonoids, I reformed the Logicios and I oversaw the disbanding of the United Civilisations of the Multiverse. I am not about to stand idly by while monsters like Raspberry persecute my people.”

“Then why don’t you pick a universe where Raspberry lost?” suggested the old woman.

“Because this is my home, damn it!”cried the Farsh-nuke.

“This doesn’t concern you.” said the old woman. “Walk away, settle down somewhere and live a good life. let humanity sort this out.”

The Farsh-nuke glared at her.

The old woman glared at him.

The Farsh-nuke heard a voice in his head. “Farsh-nuke, trust me. We are both pieces on a board and we must play our parts. Good luck with your plan. I shall alter mine to help you but please let this scene play out as I will it.”

The Farsh-nuke groaned. “Fine. I suppose I’ll go to Vegas. Just stop him before he launches nukes yeah because if the fucker launches nukes I am doing whatever it takes to bring him down.”

“Well don’t worry I am sure Raspberry understands the concept of Mutually Assured Destruction.” said the old woman then she cried. “Take him away, boys.”

Two large men entered the room and lifted the Farsh-nuke up between them.


The Farsh-nuke hit the dirt outside the facility as a Jeep pulled up and couple of beautiful young women in bikinis got out to help the Farsh-nuke to his feet and into the car.

The Farsh-nuke sat in the passenger seat and looked at the driver. A middle aged brunette with a distinct look of annoyance. “I told you the disguise wouldn’t help.”

The Farsh-nuke shrugged. “I needed to get close and I didn’t know if he was logic sensitive. how’s the recruitment drive going.”

The driver shrugged.


A tall beautiful blonde woman in a business suit was giving a press conference. An asian reporter asked “Miss Danse, is it true that you intend to run for President of the United States?”

The blonde woman nodded. “I am proud to be representing Women For Justice in this capacity. We will reform the corrupt and patriarchal system of government into a glorious place of equality and justice for all including the working class.”

A brunette enters the room.

“And here comes my chief advisor now.” said Miss Danse.

The brunette smiled and waved at the the reporters as she passed by and up to the stage.

The two women embraced in a bear hug.

“Catherine!” cried Miss Danse, then she whispered. “Where’s our mutual friend?”

“Lucy!” cried the brunette before replying in a whisper. “Getting dressed.”

Lucy Danse turned back to the press and patted the brunette, Catherine, on the bum as she did so.

Catherine hurriedly turned her gaze to the press and smiled confidently. “I can assure that recruitment to our party is at an all time high.”

A tired looking man with a stubbly beard asked. “Don’t you think there is a possibility that your all women platform will alienate male voters.”

Suddenly the stubbly bearded man was knocked to his feet as a tall guy in a suit two sizes too big stumbled into him apologizing profusely.

Lucy chuckled. “Well rest assured my assistant Jon Smith will be ensuring that I am well acquainted with how to get the male vote.”

“Plasma guns for everyone!” cried the clumsy assistant. “And fem bots! Gotta have fembots! We can make fembots, right?”

Charlotte nodded, smirking.

“Yeah, of course we can. ‘Murica!” cried the clumsy assistant as he approached the stage. “Legalise LSD! And! And! And this is the best bit! A national beer allowance! I know it sounds socialist but free beer everyday for every citizen!” He clambered on the stage, knocking the mic stand over in the process. “I mean tell me beer, guns and robo chicks isn’t American!? We’re sure to win.”

Lucy patted the assistant, on the back, smiling widely. “We are also an equal opportunity employer and shall endeavour that every mentally ill or otherwise affected person in our fine country gets the help and job to suit them.”

The press chuckled.

Catherine muttered “Lisa, why don’t fetch Jon a drink?”

A short blonde woman peeled off from standing beside Lucy and returned a moment later to present the assistant with a glass of water.

As the assistant took the glass, his hand brushed against the short woman’s.

She smiled.

The assistant returned the smile. His bright green eyes mesmerizing her for a second.

Then the short woman returned to her place beside Lucy.

A young American reporter of Senegalese descent asks. “Don’t you worry that what success you do have may hand the election to Raspberry.”

Lucy frowned. “What’s your name if I may ask?”

“Iris Mayweather.” said the reporter.

“Well, Iris, I am very concerned about the possibility of Raspberry winning the election and that is precisely why I am running.” said Lucy. “May is an establishment shill that most people hate. Her only likeable quality is that she isn’t Raspberry and doesn’t have his supporters but she doesn’t have any other supporters either. This is why I am standing for election. America needs a third way. Now, are any other questions?”

When the press conference was over and all the press had left, the assistant went over to a filing cabinet, pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked it.

“Just where did you hide that?” asked Charlotte.

“You don’t want to know.” said the assistant, pulling back a hidden panel on the side of the cabinet to expose a vast room impossibly beyond it. He gestured to Charlotte. “Ladies first.”

Charlotte cackled.

Lucy entered with a smirk.

The short blonde woman approached the assistant, a sly smile about her lips. “Master?”

The assistant grinned like a shark. “Lets get those clothes off you.”

The short blonde woman entered as the assistant followed behind her, undressing her.

The two beautiful young women in bikinis who had fetched the Farsh-nuke earlier arrived again. One was blonde and the other ginger.

Charlotte grinned when she saw them, pulling them into a hug she she could kiss each of them on the forehead. “Amy, Emma, take the cabinet to the Jeep then drive it to our flat. Come join us once the cabinet is inside.”

“Yes, Mistress.” chimes the young women as one.

Charlotte entered the cabinet.

The assistant had shrugged off his oversized suit to reveal a tight fitting one beneath.

The short blonde woman lay naked before him, giggling as his hands explored her body.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow and looked to where Lucy stood before a vast array of screens displaying video feeds of various new channels. “I thought you were a couple?”

“We have an open relationship.” said Lucy, without looking away. “Besides, he’s the Farsh-nuke. If he hasn’t pleasured at least three women a day he gets awful; irritable.”

“And in my defence this one was literally gifted to me.” said the assistant. “I kind of have a duty to see that she’s satisfied with her life. You can have a go if you like?”

The short blonde woman giggled, looking at Charlotte, “Oh yes! Please!?”

Charlotte groaned, approaching the naked woman. “Alright but I am having you and Lucy later. No ifs, no buts and no headaches.”

The Farsh-nuke smirked and stood aside to let Charlotte work. “You know for a Bam-Kursh, you really don’t seem to like toys?”

“I make toys, I don’t play with them.” said Charlotte irritably then she looked down at the naked woman before her and started work. “Now, Lisa, lets see how you feel with a professional.”

The naked woman cried out in elation.

The Farsh-nuke washed his hands in a sink then approached Lucy. “How bad is it?”

“The press love Raspberry.” said Lucy with a sigh.

The Farsh-nuke watched Richard Raspberry on the screen and grimaced. “We’ll get him. I’m not sure how yet but we’ll get him.”

“What is this place?” asked a strange voice.

The Farsh-nuke and Lucy looked to where a black woman was standing, just inside the door.

Catherine looked to Lucy and the Farsh-nuke.

“We aren’t going to hurt you.” said Lucy.

Catherine sighed and turned her attention back to the naked woman.

Lucy asked. “How did you get in here?”

“I stayed behind after the press conference.” said the black woman. “And then I saw you all get in the filing cabinet and I took care of the women had moving it.”

Catherine bit her lip and looked to Lucy.

“Did you hurt them?” asked Lucy hurriedly.

The black woman noted just how badly she was outnumbered and shrugged. “Handcuffs are easy to find if you know where to look and those women weren’t very bright.”

The Farsh-nuke looked pointedly at Charlotte.

Charlotte sighed and looked back to the naked woman before her.

The Farsh-nuke coughed then addressed the black woman. “Okay, this is what’s going to happen. You are going to give Lucy the keys and Lucy is going to go free our friends and while that is happening you and me are going to have a little chat.”

The black woman laughed and started to back out of the room. “I am not staying in this place, I’ve read about stories like this, I have no intention of getting probed anywhere.”

Charlotte looked to Lucy meaningfully.

Lucy stepped forward. “Iris, isn’t it? Iris Mayweather?”

Charlotte froze then nodded when words wouldn’t come.

Lucy reached forward and grabbed the back woman by the arm to stop her from leaving as she walked up to her. “Iris, I’m going to level with you, you have stumbled upon something here, something big and we can’t just let you leave. It’s far too big a risk. You do however get a choice. You can speak to my assistant here and have some autonomy like me or you can resist and end up like the girls you tied up courtesy of the woman who made them that way.”

Iris looked to Charlotte.

Charlotte looked to her, a cruel smile on her face.

Lucy looked Iris in the eyes. “So what do you say?”

Iris pulled a set of keys from her jacket pocket and handed them to Lucy.

“Thank you.” said Lucy with a bright smile on her face before she left the room.

Iris looked to Charlotte nervously.

Charlotte glared at her.

“Iris!” called the Farsh-nuke.

Iris walked over to him then noticed the screens. “Why are you monitoring the news?”

“Because we want to stop that man.” said the Farsh-nuke. “Will you help us?”

“Do I have a choice?” asked Iris.

The Farsh-nuke frowned. “Iris, there are a thousand different ways I can ensure you don’t cause a problem for us. I am asking for your help and that requires trust so yes, you absolutely have a choice.”

Richard Raspberry said on the news. “We are the national party of the socialists and we will see that all the poor black communities within our country are taken care of.”

Iris stared at that fact grin and said bitterly “Lets get the bastard.”

The End

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