November 11th

"You know, if you wanted a way to scare the public, you found it with that speech there. I still don't understand why you insisted on this so much. I respect you, Vern, you've been of loyal service to my father, and me, strange, I don't remember humans living for over 8000 years."

Gushovick turns around, his face split between his bare skull, stitched together skin patches, with two red mechanical eyes, 2 long but thin metal arms rise from behind his spine, one holding a file, the arm hands the file to Gushovick, he glances into it, and speaks with a calm soothing voice. "The game, they're playing it."

"Well that's ominous and vague, kindly, explain." Norman says.

"You don't know the birds like I know them. They're dangerous. They're playing the game, we need to stop them. I almost got them 700 years ago. The game was won. What changed?" Gushovick responds

"The Game?"

"The Game."

"Level with me, what in the Kentucky Fried FUCK is the GAME."

Gushovick chuckles. "I like that one, I'll have to remember that."

"Guess what; I don't: CARE, WHAT IS THE GAME." 

"We've been playing it so long, it's gotten so complicated, let me tell you what to do, it will take to long to explain. Gordon was there when it was started. He still understood it was my responsibility."

"Put it in the simplest shortest terms you possibly could. You asshat."

"Namecall all you want, it won't change anything, but in this case, I can put it simply. I will keep the beginning between myself, and Gordon, Uuse rest his soul, but eventually, Dydact and the birds got into a rythm, every 5 years, the birds would attack with a new president and strategy, new soldiers, but the same base and predictable shield, yet 700 years ago, The Great Cassowary fell from his perch, into space, and we thought it was over, 5 years later, nothing, 10, nothing, 100, nothing. Me and Gordon were confident, but now... Now... New base, new shield, new location, and an unpredictable style of everything, these mercenaries, this new empire... The mistake is great. They say, you know, that one encounters their destiny on their way to avoid it."

"So... They're dangerous, and we don't know how much, we need to squash it early."

"Exactly."

Norman looks around. "You seem very very familiar with these birds-"

"For your own safety, I recommend you don't finish that statement" Gushovick turns to his lab bench, where he's working on a very tall, bony, charred body, the two metal arms work on the body while Gushovick reads a file with hundreds of pictures of members of The Bird Union, both past and present.

"So, even with the rebellion on Ustea, the Army Of The Last Reach still somewhat present, and the slave union's resistance on Internal Vogutis, these fucking BIRDs take priority?" Norman says.
"Assign Crikey to the Ustean Rebellions, Assign General Narwhal to The Army Of The Last Reach, Assign General Moravius to the slave union's resistance. Assign General Cavum, General Parvathi, and General Clubs to The Bird Union for now. The trio."

"You don't seem to recognize your place, I'll slide all of this to Aging King but if they don't sign off on it-" Norman is cut off, he's grabbed by the collar by one of the arms, and by the neck by the other, and he's pulled towards Gushovick.

"You fail to realized I'm not requesting, I'm ordering, need I awake the dead to change your mind."

Gushovick releases Norman, Norman stumbles back.
"By all the insubordinate-"

"Your cabinet sees me as more of a threat than you. Keep that in mind."

Norman looks around, and starts backing towards the door.

Suddenly the door flies open, General Cavum is standing there, leaning on her sword like a cane.

She locks eyes with Norman as quickly as she can. "I have an update. On the mercenaries of The Bird Union."