"The Revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall."
-Che Guevara
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OOC Thread
"The Sacred War" Chapter I: Insurrection
Central Square (Hero's Square*), Civitas Maxima (Chezkau*), The Vast Dominion (The Social Collective of Chernobl*)
1900 Hours, November 17th, 20XX**
"THIS DEMONSTRATION HAS BEEN DEEMED UNLAWFUL. YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO DIS-"
A sickening crack followed by a clang was heard as the voice cut out and the loudspeaker the man had been holding fell from his hand and onto the thick steel armor of his black MRAP, bearing police markings. The dead body of the police officer who had been speaking was sprawled out over the roof of the armored vehicle, a trickle of blood leaking from a wound in his face, where his tactical helmet had failed to protect him.
Around the vehicle was a sea of people. People from all backgrounds, students, factory workers, secretaries, uniformed and fully equipped soldiers, beggars, paupers and criminals... even a few uniformed cops. Many were holding large banners, most of them red, bearing slogans of revolution, freedom, communism and socialism. All were yelling, the voices of millions, all yelling at once was simply too much to distinguish, and the noise could only be deciphered by the audial nerves as an incredibly loud humming, or just a collective of indecipherable shouts and yells.
From the sea of people, a man slinked his way up towards the MRAP, before climbing on top, and picking up the megaphone. The man was the vanguard of this spontaneous revolution, a young man, only 27 years of age, a doctorate student at Central Dominion University. He was above average in height, but not a large man by any means, in fact, he would be better described as slim. He was wearing black military surplus boots, work pants, a bright red zip up hoodie, and a black and red shemagh wrapped around his face. In his right hand, he held a Glock 19 pistol, which he raised above his head, eliciting a thunderous cheer from the horde of disgruntled workers and paupers that had filled the very heart of The Dominion, or as the communists referred to it, Chernobl. The nations historical name. The name it had used before the capitalists had sold the entire nation and its people out, and their culture and identities with it.
"URRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" The crowd shouted waving their bright scarlet flags, and thrusting their banners into the airs like hunting spears into the flesh of a wild boar. A few gunshots rang out, as a many of the armed revolutionaries fired their guns into the air, excited and renewed by the presence of their ever charismatic leader, their vanguard... Vasili Volgin. Direct descendant of a past Chernoblian revolutionary, and proud of his bloodline to boot.
"GOOD EVENING COMRADES!" Vasili shouted into the megaphone, his words ringing out through the square.
"URRRRRRAAAAAAAA! URRRRRAAAAAAAA! URRRRRRRAAAAAAA!!!" The crowd shouted back, their own greeting. The traditional Chernoblian war cry, no longer used after the capitalist hijacking. Until now.
"Here we stand! Here we finally stand! In the very HEART of this great nation! Hero's Square! Chezkau! The city of our fore fathers! A city built on the blood, sweat and tears of our people! A city... that now cries tears of its own. The greedy, imperialist filth who have hijacked our nation, have raped this city, turning it into a horrific abomination, a shadow of its former self. They changed the names of the very buildings our ancestors toiled to build, and moved the seat of their puppet government away from the place where the leaders of our people have lived for hundreds of years, to an ivory tower of glass and steel, a symbol of their sick decadence, the very sick decadence that has been slowly killing this great nation, eating away at it slowly like a plague of old! Today, comrades... today... WE WILL TAKE OUR NATION BACK!"
The crowd was electrified, cheering and yelling, firing their weapons into the air, and then finally, the trademark...
"URRRRAAAAAAAAA! URRRRRAAAAAAAA! URRRRRAAAAAAAA!"
Vasili held up his hand, and began to speak again.
"Across the nation, others are joining us in this cause. In Vilickigrad, Stromya, Chernoblynsk, Byelostok, everywhere! At every military base in the nation, the soldiers, our fellow common man, our fellow workers, blood of our blood and flesh of our flesh, have taken up arms against their bourgeois commanders and joined us in our cause! The entirety of the great Chernoblian people cry out for freedom with a voice so loud, a fury so righteous, that it cannot be ignored! WE ARE WINNING! It is up to us, children of Chezkau, to take the ivory tower of our bourgeois overlords, and build our new nation, A NEW CHERNOBL! A CHERNOBL! WHERE WE! THE WORKERS! THE STUDENTS! THE SOLDIERS! THE FARMERS AND THE INTELLECTUALS ARE THE KINGS! THE HEROES! URA COMRADES! URA! ONWARD TO VICTORY! ONWARD!" Vasili yelled, with a god like charisma, pointing his hand to the tower behind them, through streets and alleyways, all of which were guarded by what was left of the police. The massive sea of people joined Vasili in his cheer, and began flowing in on the capital tower from all directions, their war cries echoeing through the city, their gunshots following them...
Central Tower, Chairmans Office, Civitas Maxima (Chezkau*), The Vast Dominion (The Social Collective of Chernobl*)
1946 Hours, November 17th, 20XX**
"Mr. Chairman... The-they've surrounded the tower."
Erich Tjaden looked out from the window of his office at the very top of The Central Tower. 136 floors up from the ground. A little over 2,000 feet. Before him, lay his city. A city that he had built. It's towers massive, its infrastructure impeccable, expensive? Perhaps, but impeccable. Immaculate. Now, instead of seeing the shimmering sea of neon lights and glass he had looked out over proudly for years, he saw a city on fire. Plumes of smoke rose up over its buildings, probably from the filthy communists burning cars... or the bodies of his loyal policemen. Instead of the sounds of car horns and traffic, he heard gunshots and explosions. everything he had worked for, everything he had ever dreamed of, his life's work, was burning in front of his eyes.
"We... We need help. I suppose it's time to contact the ACA..." Tjaden said, an audible sadness in his voice.
"But sir! We need to get you out of here! We can do it!" The agent said. Ever loyal, even in what was so clearly the end.
"Nobody can get us out now son. They've already taken almost every military base... hell... they ARE the military now... even many of the police have joined them. It's us against the world my boy. I should have contacted them when the riots started... but I didn't think it would come to this." Tjaden said. He was barely keeping it together now. He spoke as a man who had already lost everything. The factories of his multiple companies no longer belonged to him, his house had been firebombed, his bank account frozen by hackers, and his nation... Taken.
"What should I say? We only have a few squads of cops outside, we don't have much time..." The agent asked. Just as he said that, the sounds of gunshots intensified. They were very close now. Right at the base of the tower, a torrent of fire.
"Take this down..."
Official Diplomatic Communique
From
The Vast Dominion
To: All Members of The Anti-Communist Alliance
From: The Desk of Supreme Chairman of The Vast Dominion Erich Tjaden
Dear Sirs,
I write you on this fateful night, November 17th, with the saddest news of my life. As you may know, a large and powerful communist element has taken root in my nation, and they have grown in power and influence more rapidly than I ever could have expected.
I write you, a broken man. I am in my office, in the city of Civitas Maxima, writing what will likely be the last letter of my life. Outside, an unknown number of communists rebels are actively engaged in combat with what remains of my police force, and Security Service. I am surrounded, trapped and in all likelihood, a dead man.
I do not write you to beg for help, I have accepted my fate. I write you to ask for a final favor, a dying wish, if you will. Please, do NOT let my nation, and my people fall under the despicable rule of communism. Do anything within your power to stop them. This, I beg of you. I hereby give all members of The ACA, express permission to whatever it takes, short of using weapons of mass destruction, to prevent these communists, leftist and their ilk from taking power in my beloved country.
It is too late for me it would seem... But it is not too late for my people.
Most Sincerely and Respectfully,
Erich Tjaden, Supreme Chairman of The Vast Dominion
*Denotes communist name.
**Allows for liquid time, and for all involved to insert their own year should they include this thread in their national history.