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Rubano Malijin

"Through power, victory."

0 · 2,097 views · located in Parliament's Chambers

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Nemo

Description

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The Honorable Rubano Malijin, Terran Parliament Chairman

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Age: Mid-late 30's
Height: 6' 5"
Weight: 210 lbs
Physique: Mesomorphic, Muscular
Eye Color: Black
Nationality: Terran
Occupation: Parliament Chairman

Rubano hails from Hafirjan, representing many of the Eastern/Central countries such as Tanzania, Uganda, and the Congo. A popular politician and likeable celebrity, Rubano is known for his charismatic persona, strong intellect and good-natured sense of humor. He demonstrates a deep sense of patriotism and loyalty toward Terra, and a passionate determination to maintain her sovereignty. Despite his strong support for Terran independence, Rubano often advocates for bills that grant more privileges and authorities to the TNG, claiming that only a "powerful government" can be a strong one. A decisive leader and influential speaker, Rubano is the creator of the 'Xenia Compromise', the foreign garrison charter that Terra uses today.


Rubano graduated from Makerere University with a bachelor's in intergalactic business and a master's in political science. He took a year for himself after he graduated, travelling across Terra and giving his time and money to many respected global charity organizations. When he returned to Kampala, his family's influence and personal connections with his former university allowed him to quickly procure a position at Makerere as a professor of political science and Director of Admissions. He worked there for two years and was well-liked among his students and colleagues, despite his notoriously strict classroom etiquette and extreme lack of tolerance for tomfoolery and academic dishonesty. After exposing an embezzling scandal perpetuated by the university's president, Rubano was promoted by the school board to Dean of Humanities and Social Sciences. After three more years of diligent and prosperous work, Rubano was appointed the president of Makerere University.

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Four years later, Rubano was offered a position as an assistant to the Ugandan Minister of Foreign Affairs. He worked with the ministry for two years, during which time he famously negotiated the release of over a hundred captured civilians from the hands of Tanzanian rebels. Using his generous wealth, Rubano also personally financed the reconstruction of several war-torn Ugandan neighborhoods. His efforts won him the Confederate Humanitarian Award and the Union Crest of Courage. Despite his relatively meager political function, Malijin had become one of this most popular politicians of the time. His fame quickly prompted presidential-hopeful Gwandoya Balondemu to elect Malijin as his running mate. When Balondemu won, Rubano became Vice President of Uganda.


Rubano spent the next four years serving the people of Uganda, using his new-found political freedoms to endorse a series of economic reforms and military expansion projects. His illustrious history, handsome person, convincing speeches and ultimately effective fiscal amendments garnered enormous support for both himself and Balondemu. Unfortunately, Balondemu would be mysteriously assassinated by Ugandan rebels in his own office one year before the end of his term. Though grieved over the loss of his friend and colleague, Rubano assumed the presidency, focusing the country's funds towards public relief efforts as well as spearheading Ugandan military efforts in ousting several rebel factions. Despite his enormous public approval, Malijin refused to run for office after his term had ended, still crestfallen over the loss of Gwandoya.


Rubano took another year off, this time travelling to other central Hafirjan countries such as Congo, Kenya, Egypt and Ethiopia. He continued his humanitarian endeavors, overseeing the construction of new homes, work places, hospitals and cultural centerpieces. He heavily endorsed anti-rebel movements and worked closely with expulsion activists, learning a good deal about military logistics and battle tactics from a myriad of different generals and commanders. He famously lead Rwandan armed forces in the Battle of Ndogo Mlima, literally charging into the fray alongside the 6th battalion and defeating the kambamti insurrectionist movement in open combat. He received the Rwandan Medal of Honor for his valor and bravery. All of this, of course, reached the ears of the Hafirjan public via media networks. Malijin's popularity was at an all time high.


When the Terran National Government assumed power and ask for Parliamentary representation from Hafirjan, Malijin submitted his candidacy. He won the election in a momentous landslide.

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So begins...

Rubano Malijin's Story

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#, as written by Nemo
Rubano Malijin walked quietly along the elaborate marble floors of the Terran Government Center, his polished shoes heralding his arrival in a clicking bass metronome. A small briefcast was fitted into one of his brawny hands as he approached the door to his office, calmly reaching for the doorknob and twisting it slowly. The Minister had been in particularly good spirits as of late... and why should he not? Everything was going to plan exactly the way he had planned it. Perhaps he'd meet up with Elizabeth tonight. When his secretary wasn't off torturing people for her own amusement, she was actually quite decent in be-...

The Minister's wafting thoughts came to a cold halt as he entered his office, stopping dead in his tracks as he took sight of Drulovic seated comfortably on his fine, throne-like chair. The Minister's jaw clenched as a million annoyances invaded his mind at once. He wasn't sure which he was most upset about... that his office had been broken into despite his security measures... that his 'throne' was being defiled with another's presence... or that the woman who had pulled it all off was none other then Arianne Drulovic herself. Rubano's brow quivered as he concluded his building fury stemmed primarily from the lattermost possibility.

"Director Drulovic..." he managed a calm, relaxed voice as he walked slowly into his office, "...what an unpleasant surprise." The minister set his briefcase down on his desk, looking the woman over with clear disdain.

"...would you mind getting out of my chair?"

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#, as written by Nemo
"I'd prefer to stand," Rubano half-growled, sliding over the intended chair with his foot as he met the director's gaze. The 'guest' chair was not intended to seat Rubano... it was indignity the minister refused to amuse Drulovic with.

"If I may be so bold, madame Director, what -are- you doing here?" Rubano spoke up, sinister curiosity evident in his tone, "why, I imagined that with all the pending investigations that have been sprung upon you as of late, you'd have no time for a relaxing glass of wine." He smirked. "...especially here, of all places."

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#, as written by Nemo
Rubano Malijin laughed genuinely this time, his rumbling voice like subtle thunder that resonated forebodingly around the dimly-lit office. "You've neglected the best liquor then, madame director," Rubano grinned as he reached into a nearby cabinent, revealing a chilled bottle of Ugandan waragi. Retrieving a small gin-glass, the minister once again faced the director, setting the glasses down in front of Drulovic forcefully. The sound of echoing glass across his fine-wooden desk seemed like a childish whimper compared to the Minister's reverberating laughter... the vibrations of which were still evident throughout the room.

"As for Mr. Milorin's endeavours, I have no doubt that the investigations will be resolved in the near future," Rubano poured his drink and gulped heartily, "...and that the court will make a just and reasonable decision that benefits the whole of Parliament and Terra." The steel in Rubano's voice returned ever-so-slightly as he finished his sentence, his abysmal eyes whirlpooling in sinister aggression.

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#, as written by Nemo
Rubano Malijin 's office was an impressive place to behold. The Parliament member had furnished the room with an elegent black-dark red theme, boldly modest while subtly professional. The carpet, a deep shade of sanguine, lay stretched about the floor-space; slick-ebony furniture jutting from the red artistically. Several portraits and artifacts of Ugandan make lay arranged about the room; mounted on displays or hung up fashionably. A massive window made up most of the far wall, giving way to a stunning view of night-time Wing City. The golden glowing lights below shimmered and danced like fireflies.

It were these lights that Rubano Malijin watched now, his arm rested against the glass as he delicately sipped from a crystal glass of red-wine. His face was thoughtful, his thick brows knitted together in focused concentration.

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#, as written by Nemo
Rubano Malijin turned sharply, his brows knitting together as he strode quickly over to his desk, briefly checking the security-camera outside his door from a monitor within one of his drawers. He hadn't been expecting any appointments today.

"Come in," he spoke up at last, "...sire." The towering minister was still standing as he prepared to welcome his most unexpected guest.

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#, as written by Nemo
Rubano Malijin gave Zarek a strong handshake, smiling grandly at the presence of the Aschen politician. "All too well, Sire. It is an honor to meet you face-to-face." Rubano gestured to a nearby chair. "Please, sit down. Is there anything I can get you? Some wine? Or if you like, I have some Ugandan liquor with me... waragi as it's called."

Zarek might notice that the chair he was intended to sit on was of a noticeably smaller size then the one Rubano was to sit upon.

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"I'm afraid I know nothing of the sort, Sire," Rubano maintained his calm, smiling-appearance as he poured himself more wine in his crystal-glass, "I understand that Drulovic is at last being held accountable for her war-crimes against the Serbians... that is all." Rubano took a short sip.

"Perhaps you would consider talking to Mr. Khamtai himself?" the minister shrugged.

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#, as written by Nemo
Rubano Malijin chuckled lowly, a deep thunder. "I've heard of such a drink, Sire. A remarkably strong liquor... often meriting some undesired consequences if consumed irresponsibly." Rubano tapped at his own bottle, the murky-red liquor jiggling inside the frosty glass. "I will stick to wine, thank you."

"...I must admit I've very curious," the minister continued, raising one of his thick eyebrows at the politician, "I do not doubt the abilities of the Langaran Defense Agency, but I must admit that I harbor some doubt as to the validity of your recourses if you would stake the claim that my past is 'not all as it seems.' I'm a simple man, Sire Zarek." The minister smiled affectionately. "I desire to see the Terran National Government grow and propser. In time, I'd like our little planet to become a contending super-power in the scheme of galactic nations. I have never made my political stand-points a secret from anyone."

"If you are really looking for an in-depth view of my personal profile, I'm sure you could google it," the minister laughed again, "there's not much I'm hiding. If anything."

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#, as written by Nemo
"The Terran National Government is a parliamentary republic, my dear sire. We are democratic," Rubano never stopped smiling, "and if the people desire Taiyou ministers, then I'm sure it's in the best interest of our world as a whole." He took another sip of his wine. "...you will find that the politics of the Terrans are not quite so 'cloak-and-dagger' as you might believe. We are an honest people." The minister grinned again... something more malevolent and suspicious evident in his features this time. The lines on his face deepened. The abysmal-black depths of his pupils seemed to flicker. "...we are a good people."

...most of them, that is.

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Rubano Malijin looked back at Zarek with serpentine smiles, his thick fingers clasping together beneath the shadow of his looming physique. "...you might be suprised to learn just how long I've been alive, Sire."

"I am, however, curious as to know what exactly we have in common," Rubano shrugged, "perhaps YOU might think we are similiar, Sire." A short shrug. "Perhaps you're right." A quiet growl. "...or perhaps not. Do you really think that my goals are so short-sighted, so generically obvious, that they could possibly be interpreted by a fallen Aschen-politician past his prime?" The lights in Rubano's office seemed to have gotten even dimmer. "...a convicted terrorist, no less. My my, what a reputation."

"So go on, Sire," Rubano's teeth flashed white from beneath the black shadow looming over his sinister face, "do what you will. You'll get none of the answers you desire from me... so I suppose you'll just have to commence with the 'making of hell'... is that what it was? Yes. That's what you said. I remember. I remember quite well." A thoughtful pause. "...though, to be frank Sire, I've been to hell before. I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle a second time."

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#, as written by Nemo
"Full rights, hm? I admit, I've doubted the capabilities of the Aschen legal system before," Rubano shrugged, his chair swiveling as he turned to watch the politician.

"...and two hundred years? Is that so?" the minister chuckled deeply, "...well then, there's no possibility that I could have lived longer then you have, right?" Rubano spoke without answering his question... or making any points about his actual age. "...I mean, I have no technology. No surgeries. No life-giving artifacts to keep me healthy. Why, it would be impossible for me to exceed the age of forty. Wouldn't you agree, Sire? Clearly I can't be older than forty. I've been told I look late-twenties once. That was a fair compliment, but I feared the poor girl was just sucking-up to me."

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#, as written by Nemo
"I'm afraid you misunderstand what I'm saying, Sire," Rubano nodded, "I concede nothing. I've merely provided you with a reasonable estimate of what my age would appear to be from the standpoint of someone who did not know me particularly well. If you really wish to learn my age as it is according to the Terran National Government, I'm sure you could find it on my Facebook fan page. Make sure you 'like' it when you're done. We're almost at two hundred million friends."

"I am afraid we're going in circles now though, Sire," Rubano winced as if he were talking to a child; one that he must constantly and patiently correct and aid, "...I have already made my long-term goals for Terra quite clear. I desire the planet to grow peacefully and prosperously. I wish to see its military strengthened, its economy unparalleled, and its people free and happy."

He was hiding something... though it was masterfully hidden.

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#, as written by Nemo
"Oh I've never enjoyed using that cell-phone of mine anyhow, Sire," Rubano wafted the question aside with simple disregard, "I'm much more of a 'confrontational' kind of man. If there's something important I have to tell, I'll say it straight to your face." The minister took another sip of his wine. "Your assumptions of my end-goals are quite contorted, Sire. I assure you, I desire nothing of the sort." Rubano smiled his same old grin. Happy. Confident. Commanding.

"I think I'll go ahead and send you a bottle of waragi, Sire," Rubano nodded, "I wouldn't want you to have too much of your native ambrosia. We wouldn't want you getting drunk and trying to bomb your own state capital again, would we?"

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"I'd be delighted, Sire," Rubano nearly laughed, "Terra is a beautiful planet, but I regret to say it's aquired some flaws in its landscape ever since it became acquainted with your nation. It will be refreshing seeing a world where all the major deserts aren't covered in plasmic glass, I'm sure of it." Rubano thumbed along his jaw.

"Of course, we can hardly blame the Aschen for that little mishap," Rubano grinned, "...after all, it's completely understandable to destroy an entire planet for the sake of a few thousand terrorists living somewhere in our mountain-ranges... by the by, how is your little 'Hataf' hunt going? Did you know that TIB agents and Scatteran intelligence are currently rooting out the very source of Hataf operatives in the middle-east?" Rubano laughed again. "Why, it would appear as if our 'insignificant' world is doing more to stop galactic terrorists in a month then your superpower has done in five years."

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#, as written by Nemo
Lemme'

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"Not defeated, Sire," Rubano shook his head, "but well on their way, I assure you." A short sip of his wine before another dazzling smile. "...no thanks to the efforts of the Taiyou or the Aschen, of course."

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#, as written by Nemo
"I can see your point, Sire," Rubano nodded, "but you have to understand how devoutly religious and traditional Hataf is. I doubt they'd just pack up and move from the very planet they found their roots on... much as the whole of the TNG wish they would do so..."

"Nonetheless, Sire, I see that our time has exhausted. It's been a remarkably pleasant interview, but you -did- come without an appointment, and I'm afraid I have another meeting in fifteen minutes or so," Rubano smiled again, "...by the by... how's our friend Marlene Angel doing these days? I understand she's not welcome on Terran soil at this particular moment considering her termination with the NPA and defection to the LDA." The minister raised an eyebrow. "...you can imagine my suprise when NPA agents presented me with Gambit's video evidence of her presence on Terra."

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#, as written by Nemo
"Well I assure you, Sire," Rubano called after him, just loud enough to be audible, "that I have no intention of doing anything that might jeapordize Terra's sovereignty..."

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#, as written by Nemo
Rubano Malijin stood in the center of the government center, his hands folded as he watched Raphael and the Aschen soldiers enter. A grim expression was on his face.

"Emperor McGregor," the broad-shouldered politician's voice carried well even amid the hard-leather boots of marching Aschen troops across the marble floors of the Government Center, "you look... well..." He smiled grandly, though the intent behind his expression was interpretable at best. All around the Government Center, employees were hard at work, packing up their belongings and riffling through folders as they prepared to head out of their cherished workplace.

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#, as written by Nemo
Rubano Malijin had to refrain from rolling his eyes. This was ridiculous... a god king? Was Raphael as mad as he was powerful?

"I bow to your authority, Emperor," Rubano bowed respectfully at the waste, "you must forgive me if I do not kneel. I have a bad knee that I would rather not upset." He smiled again, his teeth flashing as he met Raphael's possessed gaze with effortless venom. "I welcome you to the Terran Government Center, one of the finest examples of our planet's cultural architecture and pristine planetary beauty." He gestured to a long, gold-glittered hallway. "Perhaps you would like a tour?"

Most of the surrounding workers fought to ignore Raphael. Many of them noticeably moved away from him as he drew closer. Something about McGregor was simply... unsettling.