Réunion... Remade

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taida

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Réunion to Celtica in 5 years

And there I was. My chance to shine, I had already scored... my thirty third cap. My 13th goal. They say that 13 was unlucky, but I wasn't feeling it, I was on fire. New Zealand were the enemy... when it happened. I had went around the defence when I felt my left leg just crumple underneath me. I knew there was something wrong as pain just shot right up my leg. The referee stopped the match for a while, as the guys came around, wanting to look... wanting to see if I'm OK. I remember vaguely hearing Barry Ferguson gasp in shock as he seen my leg hanging... When I heard that gasp... I knew it was all over... the next big thing in Football, killed off by an injury that was no ones fault... but my own...

Fast forward 2 years...

I was standing at the penalty spot, I looked at the goalie who seemed to have nerves of steel... I place the ball down carefully, the weight of the nation on my shoulders. If I score, we're in the World Cup... if not, I'm public enemy number one. I took a step back and I heard the whistle... then I heard it again... then again... Why is the ref blowing it more than once?

... "MCDERMOTT!"

What the ****?! I sat bolt upright as I looked around for what just shouted me... I should have remembered, no sleeping on the job, especially when your job is as part of the ******* Navy. He was ******, and who wouldn't be? You see one of your officers sleeping... well... you get the point. He looked at me with the eyes of a disappointed commanding officer, before speaking again.

"So sorry to interrup' yer sleepin', Yer' Majersty." He said, snidely, I may add. "Bu' we finally found yae' a job. Yer bein' sent out."

"Erm... where exactly?" I replied. It seemed exciting really, my first real job since enlisting a year ago.

"We're sendin' yae to Réunion. They've jus' become independen'." He said, arrogantly. I knew that they were independent, what has that got to do with me? "Yer' bein' left out there for five years. Durin' which, you ha' to make the island have a decen' economy. If ya' cin do tha', you'll have the chance to stay there... perman'ly."

"Wait... WHAT?!" I had replied. I was shocked really. I'm being shipped out to a former French Territory for five years to build a half-decent economy. "So do I actually get any of my own items with me?"

"You'll ge' thum af'er a year. You ha' no choice in the matt'r. Forgo' to add, shoul' you fail, you stay there. No family, nothing. The worl' will forge' about yae. If you succeed, you cin brin' yer family out."

What choice do I have? I'm going to Réunion. *sigh* Best learn French.

-------------------------
Yes, I'm using the Celtica Database [available in my Database download thread] for this. This story will create a backstory for it, then I'll move forward with it. So enjoy ;).
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Looks interesting, nice start. I've got a reunion international in my team, Franckie Quere. He's alaways away on international duty which is doing my head in!
 
Thanks :). Can't see how he's always on international duty, Réunion hardly have any matches :L
 
good start;
how do i get reunion players active in my game?
 
You can either;

A) Make Réunion a league using the editor

OR

B) When you're making a new game, choose a Custom Database size and load all players with Réunionese Nationality.
 
taida said:
Thanks :). Can't see how he's always on international duty, Réunion hardly have any matches :L
Click to expand...


well I may have slightly exagerated. He's got 3 caps but they always play when I have games. I reckon he's missed 5 or 6 in the first 15 games for me
 
"... what the **** did I do to deserve this..."

I said as I was on a single boat to the little island known as Réunion. They sent me out from the edge of Madagascar and forced me to row. What the **** is wrong with the Navy?

I finally reached land again. Turns out I had made it to Le Port, target achieved? I think so. Someone was waiting on the coast line for me. He was waving since it looked like I was the first visitor to that part for years.

"'Ello, my name is Jeróme." He said. He seemed like a nice guy and, what's more, spoke English; I didn't have to learn French, SCORE! I let Jeróme know about the reason I was there and what I had planned on doing. Jeróme, however, gave me an idea.

"Why not improve de' standard of te' football?" Said Jeróme and it got me thinking. By improving the football, the economy would improve since companies would want to sponsor the teams, and may even locate here.

"My god Jeróme, I think you've got it!" I said in a comical English accent... but Jeróme never got the joke. Oh well, to start!

I decided that, before we could play the football, we all had to understand each other. It wouldn't be easy. I first told Jeróme to help everyone speak English, then we can move on...
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The Shots; it's all down in my database ;)

=====

6 MONTHS LATER

"Good news Meek!" said Jeróme... yeah, he only could pronounce my name as "Meek"... not a big deal but eh. "Eet looks like deh Nation has a baseec understanding o' Eengleesh!"

"Good!" I exclaimed. In my hand was what looked like a map, but when I unfolded it... blueprints.

"This, Jeróme, is going to be the cornerstone of our new footballing economy. This, is going to be the biggest stadium on the nation."

"How many weel eet hold?"

"One-eighth of the people on this island will be able to sit in this stadium. It'll probably take a good few years to build, but I will need a lot of people" I retorted. I knew it was ambitious, but **** it, it was going to happen! Jeróme looked gobsmacked! After that, he left to find a good amount of people to help. I left, and bumped into another man.

"You are... Meek?" He said... another man who was french speaking... great

"Mick... and yes." I said. "And you are?"

"Ah. I am Yannick." He said. "And I want to 'elp."

"How can you help? Other than teach people Latin."

"Consider it done." He said. I looked on confused, but Yannick had already left. Clearly these people didn't know what a joke was in English... I had hoped that Jeróme had focused on that. Suddenly I received a call... which was weird since I was stranded here on this island.

"Hello?"

"Zdrastvoyce. Leesten, I have a proposal for you." Said the unknown, but clearly Russian, voice.

"Who is this and what do you want?"

"Not important. Leesten, I will call back in the next year. When I do, do not ignore or your mission weel be impossible. Goodbye." BEEP!

*sigh* This is going to be a long year.
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---------- Post added at 04:14 PM ---------- Previous post was yesterday at 10:49 PM ----------

I began to look over the blueprints for the stadium and something just didn't add up. I knew that the island was tiny, I could understand that, but that odd Russian guy was right, his offer would be too good to turn down because at this rate, I'll be stuck here... forever, without my family. My wife... my kid, they'll be stuck in Glasgow whilst the navy her that I'd died in action. No father for my child. The blueprints, although basic, seemed to look right. I looked to my left to see Jeróme walk up to me with what seemed like the entire island. It was a start. Some of them were professional builders who had come to Réunion from other countries [South Africa, USA, America and even Japan] to start a new life. Others were just locals who wanted to help. I nodded to Jeróme and handed him the blueprints and he, along with the others, began to look for a place on this island for it.

Yannick, however, came running towards me. It's clear that he had been beaten... pretty badly. Concerned, I went up to him.

"Yannick, speak. What happened?"

"Der are people... in Saint-Benoît who disagree weeth what you are doing. They beat me wit' sticks and rocks." He said. He was bleeding quite badly. When I told him the full plan, rebuilding the economy. He just looked at me with a solemn look. Clearly, the navy had ****** up... again.

"Meek" he said "What do you mean rebuild the economy? We 'ave the highest GDP per cap-ee-ta in all of Africa. Our tourism brings in $18.7 million."

"I didn't know that..." I said softly "... but it doesn't look like I have a choice. If I don't do it, the Navy will wipe me from the face of the earth, I'll be dead to everyone I cared about or loved... so looks like we're going to Saint-Benoît."

I wasn't taking no for an answer. It's 2nd of January 2006, the Russian hasn't called and our stadium will be built by 2008. This is going to be one long ride.
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---------- Post added at 12:59 PM ---------- Previous post was yesterday at 04:14 PM ----------

It had been two days... two... long... days, but Yannick, who was, by this time limping, and I made it to Saint-Benoît. I didn't see what the problem was, everyone here seemed nice... until they saw me. The welcoming looks were replaced by scowls and a few of the men approached Yannick and me... as usual, they spoke French.

"Hey, je pensais que nous vous avons dit de ne jamais revenir" said one of them. The others around him nodded and began smacking their fists off their hands.

"Ce n'était pas mon idée, il voulait voir par lui-même!" replied Yannick and everyone's eyes were turned on me. If there's something you don't want, it's angry looking French speaking Africans staring at you menacingly, it's really unsettling.

"Et quel est votre nom, de porc?" said another of the men. Yannick told me to tell them my name. So I did.

"I am Mick, I work for the Royal Navy." I said... but they didn't seem to understand until Yannick translated for me. They laughed. They obviously knew why I was here.

"Ah, vous êtes l'idiot qui veut réformer l'île. Vous ne quittez jamais parce que Saint-Benoît ne sera jamais réformé sous le nom de la Marine." he said again. Yannick translated and told me that they had no intention of changing. Suddenly, the same man spoke again.

"Si vous êtes nommé roi de la Réunion, puis votre règne durera quelques heures seulement." was his last words, before almost throwing me out of the City. Yannick told me that they are very proud of their French heritage and think that I'm trying to name myself as King of this island.

King? I just want my ******* life back.
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