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She felt nothing as she watched her fellow damned souls talk their way through immigration quickly once they showed off their passports, stamped with the pride of the empire, in the face of an officer just trying to do their job. It was obvious he had no love or desire to deal with her bunch of rowdy idiots.
Charlotte could not complain about his feelings when she was the same way, their expedition only held by the notion of king and country. A notion she was slowly growing to despise in name and practice. The world continued to show her nothing when she had been blocked from her love in some kind of ‘mercy’
“You’re lucky to not be floating in the river!” Alas. She still had some sense of survival instinct.
Instead she only had to make sure the elements or the local constable didn’t kill her.
Like a bullet to the brain she had been shocked from all of her preconceived notions of advancement and progress in the world of investigative journalism, having flown too close to the sun all she could do now was fall…
And just where was the land which would catch her fall after being sent into exile for the year?
Rhodesia.
Established by British hands in the name of honored explorer Cecil Rhodes who she had been taught of during school as a symbol of their excellence and honor in the face of ‘savages’ and dishonorable actors on the global stage, sitting right underneath the province of… South Africa.
It was clear someone had never seen the map before establishing ownership.
So far the land had been as promised as she went through the locals who greeted her with nothing beyond warm smiles and calm hands at someone from the empire making the trip all the way to the continent of Africa, to leave the wealthy continent of Europe took courage.
An odd phrase but she held her head high in the face of the glory she would bring back home.
At the very least that would be the front she would propagate in front of her fellow members in search of absolution.
Their accommodations were up there with the best they could receive on this continent, nowhere near the lands of home or even their enemies but certain parts of the continent were off limits so she would appreciate what she had for the moment.
No call of adventure reached her so she went to do nothing beyond take pictures for the eventual brochures and information pieces these would end up in as a reason to come and spend money on the ‘experience’ of Rhodesia.
Hiring a guard and guide took some of the money she planned for the day, only able to have any left over due to a history of working with British tourists, but none of that would matter when she received a gift she would never have thought to use.
“Here, for the jungles, you never know when they'll attack.” It was heavy in her feminine hands and she made sure to point the thing away from her conversation partners and the open air. It sits as a sign of the times occurring in the part of Africa they are allowed to visit as British citizens.
But were the animals so rabid in Africa?
Her guide was just messing with her.
Point and shoot.
In her element she was up there with the best of them, always sure to get a shot perfect for the papers, photographing game would be no different from the men and women she had on film in compromising positions.
Jealous minds always wondered how every shot of hers came to be so photogenic even in positions where the last thing they were focused on was looking good for the hidden camera in the room.
Riding in the back of the vehicle she got the chance to steady her mind as the jungle showed the teeth it had against man’s encroachment on the lands of the animals which were sacred, in her defiance she moves to get each and every shot of the teeth and man’s triumph over their natural predators.
“Make sure to capture my good side.” He said as posing over the corpse of a giant sized animal.
She made sure he was at least in the entire frame before lazily taking the picture in front of the corpse of the giant animal, no sympathy would be had for the thing that tried to kill her, taking out the picture for them to see she was met with astonishment once again at her natural skill even as she didn’t do her steps normally.
It was like the smallest link to understanding she was different from the regular humans of the planet, although that wasn’t entirely correct considering her obvious nature as a human with the smallest bit of anomalous abilities.
As a good citizen she went about her day not thinking about the implications, only finding joy in the road that had opened to her after finding her skill with the camera. If you ever needed someone to really capture your good side she was there as soon as possible for her busy schedule.
Now all she had was favors with the locals in the area.
Rough hands once more bring her back in focus to the target she is aimed at with a weapon for her size instead of the heavy weapon required for the animals of the jungle, she must remember to focus on the moment in front of her and to not allow herself to get lost in the dealings she does to even get into the range for free.
Looking all the way down the range her board contains a few missing pieces from her grazing the board but she can see just above the bottom an actual hole in the thing. There was a whole year to make sure to be able to defend herself just in case, this was leaps worth of progress and so soon!
The board will make a good reminder of the progress she has made while banished from the country and a fine enough picture in her reports, as long as she doesn't step into female liberation territory.
Not that this land makes her feel any more liberated.
Soon enough she will aim higher and learn how to keep from swaying as she does while aiming, nothing will keep her from being competent should the time ever come where action is needed.
With as long as they have it was only inevitable that her companions would fall into competency and look into the sights for tourists instead of the sights for their jobs. She cannot help but protest the slacking standards so soon, months after they have enough work perhaps but not so soon.
“This is our job!” That cry gathers them all back on board against the stick in the mud.
Sitting in one of those restaurants she can see the appeal of such a fine dining establishment but she would rather be anywhere else than such a stuffy place, she was no socialist but the amount of wealth on display would make even her editors blush.
Washing down the food reminders of why she is proud to be of such a country.
Her fellowship is keen to jump on the chance for some of their written articles even before the food has been served, something of an offensive act to which she puts her foot down on the rather ‘new’ crew now that she’s seen them in action.
Her opinion only continues to fall during the meal for the damage control that must be done to even allow these green recruits to interview a member of a prestigious local institution. Despite their differences they are not so different as she would have imagined.
Prestige was everything.
Taking in these lowlights?
Not worth the name brand image.
The things she does for a good night’s rest…
It would be so easy to become a scam artist up there with the greats but alas she has morals and so she only uses her magic in small ways, if anyone was to find the web pages she was crawling through she was for sure to be taken out and shot.
“I’m going to bed.” She tunes out the rowdy crew in the face of getting such an interview despite everything.
They want to do something for her in the face of saving the interview. Who doesn’t want to go for a bunch of drinks with the lads?
Not her.
Being drunk was never her idea of a good time no matter what the culture might say about her opinion, drunkards were easy to work against, not the kind of person she would ever aspire to be.
So as they roamed the night in a foreign country like they owned the place she would get a night's rest that she knew would be rare until she broke and spent the night getting plastered.
Rhodesia certainly lived to the brochures, despite its African nature it was like a little slice of Britain on the dark continent, why had they let them go in the first place?
Tomorrow she would go to the library of Cape Town to see what local politics would tell her about the history of their glorious mission.
Despite it all the other shoe has yet to drop, but there were still months to go where she couldn’t afford to become infected with boredom.
Cape Town was deceptive in the image it showed the world and the whites from other parts of Rhodesia. She found that out as she rode in on a vehicle fit for a war on unpaved roads, something unthinkable back home, watching the surrounding area while her guard was focused like a hawk on the bush.
She didn’t know it yet but military vehicles just to get into the coast should’ve been a sign of something greater.
Surrounding Cape Town was hell but the inside of the city was the perfect city for the white’s dream in a place where they were so outnumbered, any new flesh of the right disposition was gladly welcomed in the face of the enemies they faced both internal and external.
Inside the town itself, the atmosphere did not grow to be any better with the men posted doing their best to make sure nobody felt uncomfortable with the amount of soldiers posted just out of view.
There was a story in the midst of all these men.
Unlike before she does not require any magic on her end, just the recognition of the thankless work they do as soldiers in the face of the dangers that would slaughter these civilians without their help.
She's sure it seemed to be what the veterans from Britain's pointless wars would like to hear instead of complaints about ANOTHER expedition to some no name river in the middle of a country that was of no use to them.
God, maybe she was too harsh on those veterans. What even came of their expedition? Another land full of resources needed for the advancement of their empire?
Sometimes she's unsure of where the wellspring of emotions she draws comes from, it annoys her to no end yet comes to her advantage as she is genuine but able to keep an analytical mind.
No doubt some of it is her misguided guilt over her treatment of the man who has no desire to truly expand the glory of the empire but duty calls for them to go down the river in another war for a region that will never be theirs.
Seeing a soldier on the familiar face of those troops honored for nothing more than a war which was stalemated makes her lash out In weepy manner.
Maybe it is her acting like the average British woman against the embellished tale from a country most couldn’t find on a map that gets her in but she absorbs as much of it as she can.
Afrikaners.
Right now she is in a convoy on the move to the location of a base of theirs that was reported. It was incomprehensible why they had the desire to fight the South Africans when they held almost the same positions yet men always were incomprehensible creatures to her.
She grips her camera unsure of what she'll find other than the shameful display of violence against the civilized men of the world. Her teachings make it clear, violence against your fellow man was to always be avoided. Now she's not so sure what the point of their teachings even was.
Apathy was a killer in her mind, were she to find happiness it would only last as long as the moment would, she likes capturing these moments that drive the world away where she is the only one there. The wider she looks the more she realizes the flaws in her upbringing against the truth of the world.
Such as moments like this when the greatest threat to these men and women is someone from the same race.
This will surely make some noise back home… her blood starts to pump.
Her camera can only capture so much before nothing will be saved anymore, a flaw she wishes could be ignored, forcing her to choose the greatest shots of the up and coming violence is nothing if not the most torturous decision in her world.
War was something she had never gotten to see up close and personal, to make her decide what was worth remembering was a deal with the devil. God, strike her soon if she was to be punished for her impulsive actions.
Another day of interviewing the same old in the cause of free food or another day of riding while hunting game was boring her to death, it was time for some excitement in her life even as it came from the barrel of a gun pointed in her general direction.
Thankfully her mind remembers the sight of the brain next to her getting blown to bits like its own personal photograph.
A shameful display to see them reduced to copying the tactics of savages as they grew more and more violent, Charlotte does nothing but draw the gun on her person making sure to have it just in case the ambush goes as bad as they expect.
It is unknown why they chose to attack their specific part of the convoy but she gets a front row seat to what makes the veterans tick as the sides trade gun fire long enough for her to have to consider getting comfortable.
Reinforcements are sure to arrive if any part of the convoy can force a retreat to shore up the rest of the line but she knows what is required of her even as just a journalist with a camera, it’s like her lining up the camera on the subject's face.
She can only make the sound of her gun being fired in the aftermath.
A thud is heard before curses follow from the fellow she just kneecapped in a cruel mercy even though the man may never recover or bleed out because of the lack of professional medical attention, somehow this is considered more moral in the face of death which would solve all of their problems.
He would stop being in pain while his comrades had to try and save one of their own who was willing to die for the cause, they wouldn’t have to risk putting down some of their arms for someone to evacuate the injured and Charlotte would not have a bad memory lodged in her brain against her will.
It’s nowhere near the worst war had to offer someone.
If only her brain would understand that.
Like Icarus flying too close to the sun the Afrikaner base goes up in flames from what she can see before they reach the sight itself, in all of this they had ignored the African fighters who would see them all pushed out from the continent in the name of justice.
She was kind of looking forward to whatever secrets they could find…
Who had leaked the information to the Africans in the first place?
Good riddance either way but they may have a bigger issue on their hands, a rat problem which had to be dealt with using discretion which she doubted these military men would use but for their sakes she would pray.
Tonight she will move back to another city while the investigation takes place if what she expects to happen does as she imagines, at some point she will have to choose what she finds in the trip to her superiors.
She’s got enough to fill an album multiple times over but there only needs to be one story to come from this experience, Rhodesia collapsing writes itself and the status quo is not worth reporting upon.
As her lifeline she keeps kicking the can down the road until she gets on that boat before she makes her final choice.
Behind her a fire breaks out confirming her ideas as she has to hear the babbling of her compatriots about some scene too graphic for words, she almost wishes she had gone with them instead of on her own.
Knowing them however, the tiniest thing would set them off and especially the sight of blood and white on white violence.
Must there be a reason for hating violence on something like race? It was a stupid reason for conflicts across the globe and it is down right idiotic when promoting non violence.
The fire dies quickly while claiming a corpse but she will only find out about the thing when she reads the paper in the morning knowing the results, life goes on in the town so far that she feels fine enough to go out about her day once again.
Who doesn’t love a nice game of football with the lads?
She found herself cheering with the rest of them as a fast and rough game went down on the pitch, whatever the history of the two teams was irrelevant to her as they played a nice game of classic English football.
Turns out Charlotte can have fun!
Her inhibitions are all gone as she drinks the beer on offer, about the same trash as her local pub, and eats whatever cultural abomination the guide had showed her on Rhodesian food. It was like she was truly home from the continent for the length of this game.
Exhilarating plays ignite her blood and drive to cheer even louder for such a scene, no one will be able to outcheer her today. In her mind nothing matters beyond the match, whatever grandstanding these people did about the current state of the country was none of her concern.
But then it became her concern when the crowd became rowdy, dividing into sides and bringing her back to earth at the half.
Ah, god damn it.
Looking to the opposing side of the arena she could see the giant banner unfurled to reveal the message that was important enough for them to cause this disruption.
WHITE NATIONHOOD IS GREATER THAN DEATH
This country sucked.
She was there the moment it was unfurled, camera primed for what would become a brawl over the merit of such a provocative statement, never understanding what drew people into such ideologies as race based nationalism.
Even as the mad dash happened around her she was intrigued with the primal violence occurring in the crowds, man against man without the crutch of guns. How was she ever expected to resist capturing as much as she could for her own personal connection?
She knew someone who would appreciate the footage she was capturing here.
Now that the women and children had run, the men got to do what they did best, fighting territorial wars over a bunch of nothing. Charlotte felt like she was watching a bunch of animals completely separate from civilization.
Civilization was boring anyways.
Her presence at the scene is the bigger story than the brawl itself, something ‘expected’ of games like these but ‘disappointing’ at the defeat of the white nationalists, her sitting off from the fight allowed someone to get her picture.
To any other person she might’ve lost her mind in the face of a brawl but her deliberate movements not captured would support the actual conclusion. Back in their room she fends off the words and hands of her partners once they have seen the paper and suddenly they break out into concern.
But that’s not what any of them need or want.
“What you should be doing is selling this.” she lectured as they stared at her for some reason.
For all of her eccentricities she knows when she’s not needed.
Pushing all of that away she walks towards the sun in search of something to take care of her mind for the day, straight into the ambush set by the Afrikaners with their weapons of war. Whirring catches her attention as she sees an unfamiliar emblem on the helicopters like they had recently been painted over.
Her camera is stowed away, thankful for that fate as she must remember everything in the personal mindscape that is her secret library.
The doors come open and she can see the bullets riddling into the people on the ground before the sounds of bullets gives her that melodious high she has been craving for so long she just never realized until she was forced into Africa.
Like a woman possessed she stalks the streets of the massacre as they move on to the defenses that would be useful in a war if it wasn’t for them striking first, she must be in heaven for all that she records in her mind.
All around her she can see and hear the effects their raid had on the populace who have never seen some of the crimes they are commiting on Africans happen to ‘their’ people, another ridiculous reason why she finds the ‘debate’ so tiring.
Afrikaner troops run past the mad women holding the civilians in the city under lock and key until they can secure the entirety of the city; she continues to follow wherever the wind blows in the tour of a city under new rulership.
The local police station is burning from their actions yet the fire seemes deliberate and not accidental from their first strafing run of the city, of course the weapons would be useful but in the aftermath of the war would they not need some of the state’s infrastructure?
Nearby she can see the nexus of the fire, a local administrative office; she can only wait for the moment to take a picture when the fire reaches its peak photogenic potential. She’s just glad to not have to answer any questions about her actions while she was down in Africa considering the takeover occuring.
She couldn’t imagine what she would say if this year had been anything but a disaster.
Despite her love for the conflict she could never actually bring herself to stay in such a continent, the afrikaners can have their piece of the world without her in it.
Besides, she still had her first love waiting for her at home.
Honestly, her entire trip to Portuguese South Africa was almost boring, avoiding patrol on all sides trying to protect their occupations was a pain but she didn’t have the attention of anyone who would actually try and stop the refugees from leaving the war zone.
At least they understood the notion of fleeing.
Only people who were willing to fight and die for the cause stayed in the land for the most part.
All the while she took some more pictures that were certainly worthless once that they had to rethink their foreign policy back home in response to the Afrikaner takeover, a conclusion all but given if you understood why they were in Africa in the first place.
The flags went up all over the land formerly known as the Republic of Rhodesia, in its place stood nothing for the moment as she waited for even a single sort of noise to come from the Portuguese officials having to probe the hot border or some kind of acknowledgment of the wider world.
Yet the world wants for no one so she boards the ship back home disappointed in her time spent at Rhodesia. Was there a better use of her time that she was unknowing of? What if she had spent more time with her fellow doomed compatriots?
There is something gnawing at her insides yet not as intensely as she had imagined, until she comes back home where she will once again find nothing worthwhile in the tasks she is given in the homeland as a part of the establishment.
It was odd for once to realize there were other options than just the establishment, she might look to other isle in parliament.
Hey, those elections were finally happening after all.
Maybe she could find something worthwhile then.
