Vangara

1971, Sao Paulo

-"and there is always a location."

In the northeastern region of Sao Paulo, the metro line construction began, and was aimed to be finished by 1974, an important pivot in the urbanization of the now militarized Brazil. And on the 20th of July, the first shovel was dug into the ground of the soon to be north line, connecting Sao Paulo to the powerhouse east pathways. And of course, construction had been already years deep, but only now did he show it to the public, to avoid any mass protests. His minister on project, 'Jordin Jana' had been assigned to keep the metro secret, and to avoid the worst scenario, a terrorist launching himself into the fissure of mulch and track, weakening the state of control he had on the country. A dictator, Palma Curve, the current military leader of Brazil.  And the next to be revealed was the 'south line' a metro connecting the states to Mato Grasso, the central of brazil, but a problem had since arose.

()

A coup d'état overblown, and ever since the rightful day in 1968, the same force of Brazilian rebels that escaped to Paraguay, were tortured for information, and imposed to be spies, making tensions rise in the southern border. Alfredo Moreno, had been the dictator of Paraguay since 1954, and had seen the former leader of Brazil lose his country to a cocky guerilla leader, one he had despised for tearing Brazil, and his upmost selfish ways. A singular promise before the stroke of man he called a friend, was that Paraguay would be allowed to annex some of the regions near the Para-anana river, and allowing them more access to their large eastern coast to boost their struggling economy. But ever since that 'brute' took over, the ever promises had been burnt into dust, letting it flow as Paraguay's economy went stray, stagnating close to a dangerous halt, bursting in 1971, as hungry soldiers and citizens of Paraguay began to largely migrate to the state of Mato Grasso. In reaction the large mass migration, President Palma began to crack down and arrest these citizens anyway possible, leading to rape and death among the desperate folk of the old country west. And in that region of migrators, some chose to live, blending, while others began to rip apart the land they lived on, as revenge for the death and disarray of their people. It was May of 1971, and during a late night of the second week, a large group of 'scheming' illegal rebels of Paraguay held up in the region of Tangara De Serra were rounded up and executed, making Brazil send a force into Paraguay, starting a War between them, sending both countries in a mess that continued, even in 1972.

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1972.

And with the release of a solo album, the year began, highlighting the now stagnant war held up in the borders between Brazil and Paraguay, but one thing that had seemed to make President Palma alert, was the rise of anti patriotic crime in the state of Mato Grasso, and with himself being skilled at takeovers, he knew an anti force was being established by the migrants in the state, the main city being Tangara De Serra. 

&

Palma held his breath, his eyes wide and tut as he looked at the statistics of crime in the city of Tangara, his hands in his pockets, his suit expensive and Italian, jet black with a white tie and tailored to even a centimeter. His short, slicked back hair shined in the light of his cabinet, a massive room in the presidential mansion, overlooking the city of Sao Paulo, and the masterclass of his soon to be opened, metro lines. 

'rapes'

'murder'

'fratricide'

'cop death'

'state and city terrorism'

'arson'

had all been on the rise, and Palma grasped his forehead, knowing that these were soon to be signs of upstaging rebellion, and the first stages had always been criminal unrest, along with a spike of lawlessness, leading locals to forget their heritage, the glory days, seeping into uncouth misery.  'never enough, never enough' he had repeated that to himself, as he took over the country years back, dedicating his life to changing the scenery of South America. He remembered his luck on the very day he took office, missing an assassination attempt by the narrowest of margins, as the bullet grazed his temple only, landing in the bushy side of his fake hairdo he had worn that day intentionally, only because he had a gut feeling. And ever since that day he had an almost uncharacteristic view of his life, believing that he himself was saved by the Gods that day, and that he had powers that no one else could ever grace.

Palma gave himself a smile as he splashed water on his stubble ridden face, staring at himself in the mirror, before resting his palms on the bathroom counter. He had been lucky enough to wake this morning, so he had earned the power, the power to do anything and survive, all for the good of the country. To him, he had been chosen to be a rightful leader for yet another day. 

'I'm untouchable' he spoke to himself, knowing he had today to make his luck last, and he would only sleep in the next 48 hours, walking into the presidential cabinet once again, staring at the military general with deep, tired eyes.

"today we're immortal" Palma spoke softly, as he began to negotiate a team to Tangara De Serra, to investigate the ongoing Coup d'état. 

And all had been sent to the front lines and the main cities, fighting opposing soldiers and violent protests, rebelling against the military's regime, and all that was left were 2 generals, and an army of child soldiers. And that's all he needed, and so was born,

"operation, Vangua De Sahara."

He spoke of the names, those who would spearhead the campaign, to save Mato Grasso from a Coup d'état of restless migrants and inner rebels, and that was their mission.

'Cabocolo'

'Sylvia'

And for all the child soldiers, they had to save the state.

And behind the men, were the faces of the past, immortalized in paintings held high.

Faint, charred, black pastel, smudged. The fine oil paintings, had all been marked.

Wind blew on Sao Paulo.