Some small splinters of [The Center] kept tabs on various key areas and were gave updates daily due to the organization’s teleport capabilities. Resupplying was not a problem for the same reason. Lately it seemed that Terminus was starting to flounder. The Tropical Confederation had been tightening the reigns over the provinces for several years and the balance of power was leaning more and more towards the central governments. One of the things it did, was call in all of the standing armies of the provincial governments and duct tape them together under the command of the Tropical Confederacy. While this would make it easier for the central government to consolidate its power, it made the already near-death Terminus capital very, very vulnerable.

The capital of Isla Sol Naranja was already having trouble keeping up appearances from hemorrhaging out funds left and right to try and keep things stable. It wasn’t working. The few communications networks that the Terminus government had at its disposal had been sabotaged. Their emissaries sent to the other islands vanished. Everyone that lived more than fifteen kilometers away from the capital was less than helpful, less than useless to them. No help was coming. According to what info they had, an emergency conference was being held by the provincial government in three days time, everyone important all in the same place. It was almost as if they were letting them win.

In Terminus, capital of Isla Sol Naranja, the various faces of the government were all in one room. Tension was in the air. Hysteria lurked beneath the surface of every word. They all knew the end was nigh. However, the longer they could keep the citizens of Terminus thinking otherwise, the longer they could stay alive. Still, food shortages were driving people mad. Heads were going to roll soon regardless.

Then, in the middle of a motion, a purple pokégirl appeared, floating, in the center of the courtroom. They were all too stunned to do much of anything. The intelligent eyes of the Espea swept the room once over before she promptly vanished as suddenly as she had appeared. Before anyone had time to panic, a dozen men with even more pokégirls appeared in all corners and in the center of the room. A few of the men who had been trying to hold a meeting fumbled for the ‘balls in which they kept their ‘pets,’ all of which were subdued and relieved of their little toys.

A couple ‘Tamers’ busted in the room with a sparse amount of pokégirls, but they too were overwhelmed quickly. Tamers dead; pokégirls captured. Seconds later, Charles was standing tall above them all with his Espea, Liz, floating around above the subjugated men, sampling their minds as she drifted past. Daniele, now a terrifyingly dangerous Atlesona, darted around the room checking all the fallen men at near blinding speeds yet never disturbing so much as a speck of dust. Chrissie, now a Venuswhore, strode about the room herself, swaying her hips as her vines snuck around the room, probing inquisitively. Last but not least, The imposing forms of Yvette and a particularly ornery looking Dracrass that Charles had picked up along the way.

“Charley?” called out an incredulous voice.

Charles’s attention darted to a certain someone amongst the captured politicians and persons of power in Terminus. One he recognized as a cousin of his. Goodie. With Liz, he wouldn’t even need to get his hands dirty to know what he knows. It looked as if everything was now under [The Center]’s control… his control. This feeling, it was exhilarating and seductive. He wondered if this is what lead the previous generations of Molyneux to where they are today.

Right about the same time, several important Molyneux and members of other elite families were being kidnapped and brought to the Capital Building. It was wonderful what psychic and teleportative warfare could do for an insurgency. No one even knew what hit them. Nothing would escape the fall of Terminus and its subsequent rebirth. Isla Sol Naranja was no longer apart of the Confederation. It was theirs.

Food was teleported in for sale at very low prices with a limit per customer. The point of the cost of the food was not for any reason other than to allow people to both easily acquire food and to avoid rations running dry because of the handout effect. The vendors from [The Center] soon ran out of their stores, but it wouldn’t be too long before independent farmers came to actually sell their goods for the first time rather than cowering in fear and trying to survive. Money could have a use to those outside of the cities.

The people were singing [The Center]’s praises regardless of the coup d’état. The tamers were sparse, the bobbies could care less since [The Center] not only out manned them but had access to pokégirls that they didn’t. Besides, it’s not as if they had hurt anyone but bureaucrats and other soulless monsters prowling the city hall anyways.

At the end of long day, Charles sat down with his ‘father’s’ black book as well as those of other Molyneuxs scattered around the city. The other elite families had some interesting information, but none could rival the deviousness of the Molyneuxs. Charles knew that first hand. It was time to take a look at what his ‘father’ and the Molyneuxs of Isla Sol Naranja could offer him.

            Weeks passed and the ciphers for the Molyneux black books told many things. Some were simply mundane tales of accounting. Others were more exciting than that. It did allow him to take a good look at some neutrals who only passively did business with the Molyneux family. Getting them on his side would make things easier. Regardless, the path of the French Revolution made taking over much easier with the exception of the families that wouldn’t necessarily screw him over. It was the beginning of a new order.

           Over the courese of seven years, Isla Sol Naranja changed drastically in a short period of time. Taxes on agricultural industries, fishing, et cetera were lowered to practically nothing. Heavily taxing agriculture, retarding the growth of the industry that kept everyone alive, was the stupidest thing a government could do. The change in policy along with emergency supplies transported by members of [The Center] helped the struggling farmers recoup and become only self sufficient but able to profit from their own lands for once, and profit brought businesses wishing to capitalize on disposable income which in turn brought economic growth. Plans for aqueducts and desalination were out of reach and would be so for the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, the small amount of expansionary fiscal policy implemented already had helped keep the lower classes from having to fight for their survival nearly as much.

            Dealing with the city of Terminus was a bit trickier. City infrastructure was complicated, there were numerous businesses and walks of life and so many things to regulate. Charles’s answer was to relax regulations. What Isla Sol Naranja needed the most- at least in Charles’s mind- was growth, even the kind that had to trickle down. The only thing that truly needed a solid eye kept on were matters relating to armaments and pokégirls in any way which were rightfully regulated up the wazoo and current procedures allowed a close eye to be kept on them.

            There was only one regulation that Charles truly thought needed to be added. “No more than six pokégirls may live within a single household.”

            Let’s see if that makes any potential enemies sweat. Besides, slave labor dulls the economy.

            During a particularly busy day, an unexpected individual came into the office Charles had claimed for his while [The Center] was busy cleaning up Naranja. He was an older gentleman who had gained grey hairs and a round belly.

            “Hello, Charles was it? May I have a seat?” he asked grandly, almost as if he was being magnanimous in granting Charles his presence.

            Charles didn’t bother looking up at the stranger. “I don’t recall having an appointment right about now,” deflected in a bored tone.

            “I assure you it is of the utmost importants.”

            “Then get to it. I’m busy.” And he was. Charles was having to deal with the money supply of SLC that was floating around Tropic. It turns out that since most of the money had stagnated in the city, once it started flowing, the value of the credit started to drop like a stone. Now that domestic productivity had risen, inflation had stabilized a bit; however, it was still very worrisome. He couldn’t quite think of a way to reduce the money supply without resorting to Treasury Bills and needed to get someone working on it fast. Other forms of contractionary policy are likely to end badly.

            “Charles, as you are well aware-“

            “Get to it. I don’t have all day.”

            The older man looked severely affronted by Charles’s abrupt behavior but knew that he was the one over the barrel at the moment and adjusted himself accordingly. “The restriction you’ve placed on the number of pokégirl’s owned-“

            Charles lost his patients and sent a mental nudge out to Liz and asked her to tell him what he was up to. The Espea quickly sorted out his main purpose and presented it to Charles. Apparently this oaf represented a group of businessmen who wanted to create an assembly line using pokégirls and required more than six. Apparently they were afraid that the new regime would not tolerate more than six pokégirls in any building. Points for them for being cautious. Now if this idiot would just spit out what he wanted, Charles would make a deal with them and perhaps make it easy on them to do business providing that they have an open-ledger policy towards him. If not… well then he’d write a tasteful letter to his employers explaining his faults as a lobbyist and why he had failed. That ought to sort this idiot out real well. He just hoped hat the poor schmuck that’d end up cleaning him up out of some alleyway would be someone who deserved the grotesque task.

            As the rather piss poor lobbyist continued to waste more precious minutes, Charles gave up and mentally ordered Liz to ‘escort’ him out. Much to his amusement, Liz appeared out of nowhere floating outside the doorway to Charles’s office, and the irritating man was telekinetically dragged across the wall and ‘accidentally’ knocked into several solid objects along the way as she ‘escorted’ him to the exit.

            A quickly penned letter for Liz to deliver later, and he was back to work. Things had to be done. Now that he thought about it though, pokégirl assembly lines were a rather good idea… Maybe he’d let the people who wanted it sweat for a little while before he contacted them on his terms.

            “What?” Charles asked incredulously.

            “The Confederacy knows. We don’t know where the leak is. It could just be that our shortwave radio sessions with the rest of the League were off by one stupid detail    that clued them onto us, but the cat’s out of the bag now.”

            Charles sighed. How long had it been? He first fled Appalachia how long ago?… Had it really been a decade since this all started? They had only had Terminus and the island under control for barely a year. He had hoped that he’d have another year before it came to this. He had wanted to at least begin the infiltration of Basshead somewhat secretively. The majority of the League’s internment camps for the blood traited had already been liberated. There was always the possibility that there were some that were unknown to them.

            At least the time that they had had allowed them to recruit and partially a growing force of combat capable troops. That didn’t mean they were going to fight conventional battles, that has spelled the a staggering defeat for that battle of every single guerilla force stupid enough to do so including the famous American revolutionaries and the infamous IRA.

            It just meant that they could attack more areas at once.

            Much like Isla Sol Naranja had been, Basshead was nearly defenseless. The Confederate government, which was looking more and more like a Federal government these days, inexplicably had the collective armies of the League tucked up between Northern Appalachia and St. Mary. Basshead and Southern Appalachia were ripe for the picking. It was time to see what a large group of teleport capable pokégirls could do.

            Peachtree fell exactly as Terminus had. The locals were wary due to the busy propaganda spread by the League. Various ‘Tamer Barracks’ locations were pulled from the minds of important people with the psychics controlled by [The Center]. They were gone in a flash. Supply caches were spirited away, property of the elite- especially the Molyneux branches- vanished along with the Molyneuxs and other families themselves. No one on Basshead was quite sure what to think. Temporary bases of [The Center] were erected; no attempt to make them secretive was made.

 Curiously, thresholds became more and more common. Many all over Naranja and Basshead as well as many from southern Appalachia fled to join [The Center]. They had all heard the horror stories of what had happened to other thresholds. Rumor had been perpetuated that [The Center] was humane, even lax with the pokégirls that they controlled. Such was better than what was certainly awaiting them if they stayed with the League. Hope was all they had.

“Do you hear that?” Charles asked amusedly, “The bounty on my head just jumped. My real name just got out.”

“What’s it at now, master?” Yvette asked conversationally as she draped herself across his lap; her new Moon Maid body much more suited for it than she had been as a Maid Yvette. Her ability to communicate freely with Charles and the subsequent attention she received for it had finally driven Chrissie, Daniel, and Susana the Dracass- a more recent addition to Charles’s personal harem- to actually work harder art verbal communication. Liz never bothered, but it’s not like she really needed to anyways considering her telepathy.

“Only four mil,” he said idly. “It’ll be much higher sooner.

“Do you think they’ll even see it coming?”