Dissidents Rising (Nadeyatsya Only)

[Inprobus]

The outside was dimly lit. Every fifteen seconds or so a brief flash of light would pass by and the dark would once again envelope the traveling car. General Wilhelm Speares was in the rear passengers seat with a glass of wine in hand and a report in the other. Next to him was one of his lieutenants. Supporting the car were several armored vehicles in front of and behind Speares'. The tunnel they were travelling through was seemingly endless. And indeed it was, the tunnel network stretched the entire country. Rumor had it that the network had an entryway into every building within the country. But no one ever did find them. Perhaps it was the fear of what could happen to you if you did find one was what kept the entrances so elusive or perhaps they simply didn't exist. It was one of only many secrets that the Empire kept and was only one of the more minor ones at that.

Speares glanced at the report. His lieutenant continued, "His name is Alfred Wagner. Age 47, computer technician. His wife died at age 43 of suicide. He has not remarried. He has been in contact with a Petrokovian for approximately six months. He rigged an off the grid server. The JPS hacked it and we have been since recording his chats." He handed recorded chats which had been translated to text to Speares.

Speares glanced through them and laughed. "What's the Petrokovian's name?"

"Aksinya Lebedev. Age 45, never married. Obtained a lawyers degree at the..."

"I heard enough. It appears we have intruded on a man's love interest. Still contacting the outside world is not permitted. Send a squad to detain him tomorrow. His crime is harmless enough, send him to reconditioning and then watch him. I've dealt with people like him, I'm sure he won't be an issue after reconditioning." He handed the report to his lieutenant and received a different one in return. "No. No more. I am done with the reports for now." He handed it back. "How much longer, driver?"

"About ten minutes sir." The driver responded.

The caravan came to halt to a large metal door at the end of the tunnel. There were several papers, documents cards and even fingerprints exchanged with the first armored vehicle in the group. The guard at the end of the tunnel nodded and waved his hand. The door slowly opened, revealing an outside. It was bright out and lit up a large section of the tunnel. The vehicles then began to move forward onto the road to their destination, and the doors slowly closed behind them.

"Here lieutenant. Take a sip." Speares said.

"I'm sorry sir, I do not drink alcohol." He responded.

Speares laughed. "I will get you to enjoy the finer things eventually. This is a bottle from '42. Its excellent Exaequation Cabernet."

"Sir, we are here." The driver said. The armored vehicles parked around the complex in a formation and the soldiers ready to fire. Speares stepped out of his car and calmly surveyed the area. He saw movement in the window. "You two, follow me." He said to two soldiers. He walked with his arms behind his back. It was a usual posture of an officer. But it was also a dangerous one in this sort of situation as it would be harder to reach for his gun. But nothing ever seemed to be able to hit him. It was as if God was protecting him, or more probably Satan. "Take down the door." The soldiers followed him without question and blasted the door down with C4. It wasn't necessary to use C4 but Speares loved to make spectacle entrances and this time was no exception.

"Jason Ruth, I presume. You've been a very disruptive man, Mr. Ruth."

"I am but only one man. You can shoot me but it will only make me a martyr of the cause."

"Shoot you? No. You will be our figurehead. You will see the light and explain your errors."

"You can try."

"Oh god, please. Dispense with the empty threats, Mr. Ruth. Your resistance cell has been crippled. As I speak, all of your members to your insignificant cell have been rounded up. In fact, they even be being shot right now as I speak."

"There are hundreds or more cells. We may lack the communication, but freedom will win eventually."

"Oh, the cliche hurts my ears. I feel like you idealistic idiots are made out of some factory or something. The Inprobus Empire has existed for hundreds of years. Many people like you have stood in the way. And how many are remembered?"

A child no more than ten ran in front of her father. She held a small pistol and she seemed to know how to use it. Speares never lost posture and merely rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You've gotten your daughter involved? Martha, is it? Why don't you go back to your room."

"Don't kill her!" Jason exclaimed. "Put the gun down Martha!"

"That's your daughter's decision, not mine."

"Don't!" He pleaded.

His daughter put her hand on the trigger.

"Alas." Speares shrugged. "Execute."

The guards fired and shot the daughter dead.

Jason fell to his knees, crying and holding his daughter's corpse, the blood pooring out of her head from the two bullet holes. "The gun wasn't even loaded. She was all that I had left. But you took her away too."

"No, Mr. Ruth. You are the leader of the resistance but you still don't even understand what you fight for. You don't own anything. You never did. Not your parents, not your wife, friends, or even your daughter. The Empire owns you."

[Galbeon]

Gunfire. Explosions. Screaming. These were the sounds heard at a small resistance stronghold that was recently discovered and attacked by the forces of General Sepp Garber. Many of the resistance members ran with their families at their sides, only to be captured or shot dead by the members of Garber's personal death squad.

As the soldiers dragged the prisoners away and began to burn down the building the resistance had hidden in, a man in a black officer's uniform stepped out of the armoured vehicle, and walked over to the man who led the assault.

"Colonel Krause," the man said.

"General!" Krause yelled. He immediately saluted Garber, who returned a half-assed salute. He kept moving towards the burning building, where a group of resistance members were tied together. Garber's black cape flew wildly in the wind. A clap of thunder was heard in the distance, and the clouds soon began to start spitting on the small town below them. Garber held a PO8 Luger pistol in his hands, and wore a huge smile on his face. "This is it?" He asked. "This is who we think are the leaders?"

"Just of this cell, sir. There were more than likely more, but our forces saw to that issue real quickly. Once they are in prison, this cell is gone."

"Ha! Prison?! I cannot believe you are so merciful, Colonel! These men and women will get a worse fate than any prison within these borders."

"Sir, with all due respect I believe our superiors wishes to have a formal execution of the-"

"I do not care, Colonel. I'm not wasting my time with their transportation and care if they don't give me any information. Soldier! Bring me that can!" A soldier ran over to Garber, and handed him a red jerry can. Garber turned it upside-down and began dumping gasoline on the captured leaders. "You will never defeat us!" was one of the lines the leaders yelled at Garber. Garber laughed at every single thing they said. "Yeah, you really seem like you are winning," he said as he handed back the jerry can. "You can definitely get out of this alive, so long as you give me accurate information as to the location of your friends." One of the leaders spat at Garber, who dodged the small ball of saliva that was heading his direction with a simple side-step. "Alright then. Looks like you will be dying for your cause, my friends."

He removed a burning wooden plank from the fire and tossed it at the group. The gasoline immediately caught fire, and the resistance members began screaming as the fire engulfed their bodies. A child was heard screaming within the crowd of prisoners, all forced to watch the horrifying execution of their leaders. Garber couldn't help but smile. He knew he enjoyed the suffering of those he killed personally. He knew he had a sadistic side, and enjoyed feeding its darkest desires. But he had somewhere else to be right now, and this was inside his staff car, heading back towards the capital. Along the way, he would have to contact his superiors to inform them that another cell had fallen, and an example had been set to the civilians living within the town: resistance is met with sheer brutality. So therefore, he would not be able to personally kill every prisoner with his own pistol.

"Alright, let's wrap this up!" He reentered his car as the prisoners were loaded into armoured vehicles. Normally, Garber would have ordered them to be slaughtered. But this time, he thought he would keep them for later use against other cells. "They wouldn't dare let them die," he thought. "Their weakness will be their punishment." With that, he sent a message to the office of his immediate superior.

Code: Select all

This is General Garber. I have cleaned up another resistance cell. The leaders are dead, and we have a few prisoners. I wish to keep the prisoners for my own use, so long as that does not conflict with your wishes. I also request a new assignment; my men are at their peak, and it would be such a shame to waste their talents on such mundane tasks.

Until a response was received, he would continue back to his headquarters in the capital.

[Vernicht]

Private Kolcher awoke to find himself in darkness. His uniform was crumbled and dusty, and there was some dried blood caking on the back of his head. He was in an open space, resting on the hard wooden back of a cheaply constructed chair, with the soft light of the moon filtering through the small grimy windows that were visible to his right. He was sitting at a table, his hands bound in some sort of flexible material. The young soldier tried to break free, but found that he was unable to force his way out of the bonds. His mouth was gagged as well - a piece of fabric that tasted like... Nothing, really. His blood turned to ice, as he continued to struggle, his head whipping back and forth as he frantically searched the room for his captor. Kolcher's thoughts drifted to his activity before this mess, his patrols in a more seedy part of the city. It hadn't been any different than any other night on duty, just another night in service to the Party. He couldn't remember when his patrol had melted into this darkened room, how he had been... captured, that was the right word. Captured by whom, though?

First, he thought it was his own government. He had heard stories of people disappearing, subjects too important to publicly execute. His mind raced to find a crime for which he would be punished for, a word that had slipped from his mouth and caused all this. He couldn't find one. Kolcher had been a good servant of the state, a boy that had been raised in the light of the truths that were taught at his school. Now he was in this dark, this filth, and for what? No, his government wouldn't betray him like this. It was the Resistance.

Terrorists, criminals, rapists, bastards, pedophiles, psychopaths. The whole lot of them, all scum. To destroy these kinds of people, that was why he had taken up arms. To clear the cities and the towns of these violators, these defilers. They would string him up and leave him on the street, put a bomb in his mouth so that when his courageous comrades found him they would be killed all the same. The fear that had taken hold of his mind melted away, replaced by hot rage. He wouldn't go quietly, not at the hands of these monsters!

Kolcher began to scream in defiance, his voice heavily muffled by the mess of cloth in his mouth. In an almost immediate response, a lightbulb hanging above him flickered to life, illuminating the room fairly well from it's singular source. He furrowed his brow and looked around, rocking the chair as he tried to wriggle out. He caught a glimpse of something pale behind him as he rocked - his captor! The man was probably shaking in his boots, watching the degree of fight still in a true soldier of the Party!

A pair of firm hands placed themselves on the back of the chair, stopping it's rocking almost instantly. Slowly, a pale figure moved into his view. A woman, a frail one at that, was his captor. She wore a long grey coat, buttoned up neatly and, almost painstakingly, free of wrinkles. Her eyes were wide, and she was breathing so heavily and so quickly Kolcher thought that she was but another captive at first. The woman was terrified. It certainly wasn't what he had expected the Resistance to field against him... Perhaps she was some sort of mouthpiece, being held at gunpoint from somewhere out of his view.

She sat down at the other side of the table, staring at him with her wide grey eyes. He yelled at her, still muffled by the gag stuffed in his mouth. She raised her arm and began to reach towards him, apparently thinking better of it and pulling it back just as quickly. Kolcher continued to yell, and the woman looked away from him in shame. She stood up, moving over to an area out of his line of sight. He heard the clinking of glass, and the distinct sound of running water. The sound made him remember just how thirsty he was - his lips were cracked and his throat was as dry as the desert.

The woman came back with a immaculately polished glass of clear water and placed it on the table. She had a notepad in another hand, and a pen tucked into her collar. She tore a piece of paper from the pad, and slid it towards him.

Can't talk.

You have to promise to be quiet.
Then I will give you water.

Please and thank you,


'Can't talk'. She was being watched, by the Resistance most likely. He looked back up at the woman, still breathing as heavily as ever. He nodded, trying to convey his understanding of the message. He would scream later, when he got a better assessment of the situation. This girl's life could be in danger, just the same as his.

The woman seemed to understand, and she removed his gag. He gestured to the water, croaking out a 'please' before she brought the glass to his lips. The water was better than anything he had ever tasted at that moment, running down his throat and refreshing him. The woman took the glass away before he was done, though, and anger retake his mind. "Give me more." he said, his voice still rough and raspy.

She shook her head slightly, and began to write another message.


No.
I'm sorry

What is your name?


"Private Ryan Kolcher. I am a soldier - my superiors will be looking for me. Don't worry, they'll be here any moment. We'll both be free." he said, trying to gauge the woman's response.

She tilted her head in confusion for a few moments, moving out of view again with the glass of water. When she returned, she had another message to put on the table.

No, Ryan.

Safe place.
No one can find it.

No one will.


Kolcher smiled. "The Party knows everything. They see everything. There is nowhere for the dissidents to run, nowhere for them to hide. Cells of resistance fall every day. It won't be long before this one does too. We'll be safe." The woman beamed at him, reinforcing his idea that she was just another loyal citizen caught up in some sort of dreadful scheme. It only made his blood boil hotter, how the rebels would so callously sweep innocents into their twisted game. They would pay, every last one of them.

The woman laid another note on the table, frowning and twisting the paper so that it was perfectly in line with the others.

No Resistance, Ryan.

Just me.
I took you, and I brought you here.
I hope we can be friends, Ryan.


Kolcher's face twisted with confusion, glancing at the woman and then back at the paper. Was she saying she was a rebel? She was the one that had brought him here, to this dirty little hovel somewhere in the inner city? He looked back up at her, the smiling woman. He scoffed, and spit on the table.
"You've taken me prisoner, and now you want me to be your friend? How old are you, girl? Is there something wrong with your mind, you rebel? When I get out of here, the only friend you'll have is a 7.62 round in the nape of your neck."

The woman's smile faded, and her heaving breath slowed. She shook her head slowly, almost sadly, and stood up from her seat. She moved out of view again, and stayed there for a few moments. Kolcher heard the clink of more glass, and some dull thud of a larger object hitting the floor. He twisted in his seat, trying to see what she was doing back there.

She appeared in front of him, with a large strip of black material. A towel or something, that what it was. What she going to give him a sponge bath, for christ's sake?

The woman sat down opposite him, unraveling the fabric on the table. The first thing Kolcher noticed was the glint of metal, so many glinting objects, tucked into the material. The next thing that he noticed was the woman's hands - she was wearing thick leather gloves now, her delicate hands covered with the thick hide. She scribbled another message on her notepad, violently tearing it off and slamming it in front of him.

Ryan.

Your Party is full of idiots. Do you know how many times I've done this? It's so easy, just so easy.
They'll never save you, not now.


He looked back up at her, seeing the smile return to her face. The breathing returning to her chest, rising and falling with a speed he'd never seen. He realized, with a twinge of fear, that she wasn't scared. That wasn't fear, that was anticipation.

"Wait, listen... You... I won't be-"
She stuffed the gag back into his mouth, her face mere centimetres away from his own. Her eyes darted back and forth, watching his own face twist with fear and anger and sadness and...
She smelled like lavender.
His blood just ruined the smell, it just... It made it better, actually. Much better.

Margery Reistad watched the blade slide slowly out of his neck, blood already flowing madly out of the wound. She watched Ryan die, she watched the light of conciseness leave his eyes and the struggling little fingers of his go slack against the restraints. She felt shame, yes, but it was overshadowed to an incredible degree by sheer fascination with watching the man die directly in front of her. She had snuffed him out as easily as she could cut a slice of bread, with her knife so very sharp that it went right through his frail neck. She had a sudden urge to cover the bleeding, but the dominant part of her brain fought it off and she continued to simply watch it flow. Beautiful thing, that crimson water. She wondered if any of that water that she had given him earlier was leaving through the grievous wound, leaving like the rest of him.

She stood back, the excitement almost immediately gone. Her smile faded slowly, looking at poor Ryan. What had she done to him? She had killed him, driven a knife right into his throat. Poor Ryan. He didn't deserve any of this, he was so full of life, so set in his dedication to the Party. Still, it was the ones so full of life that were the most interesting to watch die. Her hands went instinctively to her own throat, feeling the scars that she liked to cover with makeup. She didn't even notice that her gloves were slick with poor Ryan's warm blood, nor did she care. She had plenty of time to clean up.

[Inprobus]

A crowd of citizens had gathered to watch what was going on. It was common to see troops in the streets but a full out take down was rare. The doors to the building were kicked open and two guards came out with Jason Ruth in handcuffs. They had cattle prods their hands and zapped him several times to make him move faster to the armored car where he would be transfer ed to interrogation at the hands of the JPS. The crowd started cheering the military and congratulating their efforts. Finally, the terrorist leader was captured. The Party had told so much about what Ruth did, such as responsible for blowing up the pretzel factory, resulting in the death of close to a hundred people. Of course, the Party never did mention that it was actually the JPS which purposely blew up the factory as a false flag operation, nor was anyone killed in the explosion.

Speares pressed a button on the side of the door. "You may begin the procedure." After the order, the formation of identical armored cars broke up, all driving to different locations. Only one of them had Ruth, but a guess as to which one, would be small. The vehicle was heading to the Inprobusian interrogator, Elsa Weber. She would be responsible for extracting as much information as possible from him, and then turning him to become a spokesperson for the Inprobus Empire. It wasn't enough to simply break him, they needed to turn him.

[Nickel Empire]

After a long day of working in the fields, Eric South was sitting in his living room on a rickety old chair smoking Victory Cigarettes along with a small glass and a bottle of Victory Gin while watching what was on the telescreen. Like the vast majority of the population of Inprobus his family were proles, however his family had been able to afford a telescreen due to their upper-class status amongst the proles. Eric took a long drag on the cigarette being chugging back a glassful of gin. Even though Eric was only forty, he looked at least ten years older due to his smoking and labourious job of working on the farms.

Eric filled his glass again as he could hear his kids running right by him. In fact, he had in total of ten kids, though it didn't stop there, he was also expecting his eleventh. His wife could be heard in the kitchen humming as she finished cleaning the dishes that just recently held Eric's meal. Eric finished his last glass before putting out his cigarette and walking over to his wife, giving her a hug before making his way to the front door, when suddenly his ten kids came racing to the door, giving him hugs and kisses goodbye before leaving.

The reason Eric was going out was because he had another job, he operated an illegal shop selling goods of all kids to other proles and outer party members, this shop being the reason his family lived in good comfort. After he opened up his shop, he grabbed a newspaper and sat on a stool, shortly after lighting up a cigarette in order to wait for customers.

Due to his contact with outer party members, Eric had somewhat of an idea how the government of Inprobus worked through casual speech, however he mostly didn't understand what the outer party members meant or didn't care enough.

[Ganeba]

For Nicholas Kassen, the mundane, methodical routine he had become so accustomed to was suffocating him. The only thing keeping his sanity - the only thing giving him any comfort - was the idea, the satisfaction that he was working against the Empire. No matter how small his actions were, he was a dissident, resisting right under the noses of the Party and the Judicial Police itself. As an official working in a branch of the Ministry of People, he was kept under constant surveillance, save for the few, rare occasions in which he was able to escape from their radar. In Inprobus, privacy was a myth; the omnipresence of the Party, the telescreens, and the Judicial Police made sure of that.

He had spent most of the last few months cultivating his public persona, as a perfect, ideal Inprobusian citizen. To his colleagues, he was intelligent, but completely accepting of Party dogma. He did everything he was told to do without question. He shared the views of many of his fellow countrymen, in his complete reverence of the Emperor and the Party. He was a diligent, serious worker. The idea that he could be a dissident, a rebel, would have been met with dismissal and perhaps laughter by the people who knew him.

Of course, that idea - however ridiculous and untruthful it may have seemed to his colleagues - was the reality of it. Kassen utterly despised the party and the leadership of Inprobus, joining a resistance cell in the vain, even naive hope that they could one day be able to make a difference. They could mount some sort of rebellion, toppling the Party and organizing a new government, one that actually cared for their citizens, and gave them freedom to voice their thoughts. The very concept of these freedoms which Kassen often fantasized and dreamed about would have been scandalous to any other normal Inprobusian citizen. Deep inside, a part of him also felt scandalized, even repulsed by the very idea. He dismissed it as the product of the Party's indoctrination and brainwashing.

It had been some time since he was in contact with a member of his resistance cell. It was a small circle - when compared to the might of the Party and the resources they had at their disposal, it seemed puny in comparison. To the Party, to the Judicial Police, they were nothing more than mere bugs, ants whose only fate were to be weeded out and exterminated.

As he walked through the hallways of the massive complex, Kassen greeted and smiled at his coworkers. Of course, he needed to keep up his persona. If he could, after work, Kassen decided that he would go out to meet one of his own. A resistance member who owned a shop. It was risky, but he badly needed it. He didn't know the man's name - it was kept secret for safety purposes, so that if one of them was captured and interrogated, they wouldn't reveal the names of the other cell members. A rudimentary code had been developed for identification, instead.

Once Nicholas was inside the relative safety of his office, and away from his colleagues sights, he smiled. That same sense of satisfaction had returned. He was doing something. He was resisting.

[Galbeon]

The front doors of the 4 storey building flew open. Everyone inside immediately turned to the doors and stood at attention. Garber walked inside with Colonel Klause and 2 of his death squad members following behind. Everyone saluted until Garber entered his office, which was when they returned to their duties.

Garber took his seat, and offered Klause a seat on the other side of the desk. Both men sat down, with Klause being the first to speak. "Well, sir, what now?" Garber shrugged his shoulders as he removed a folder from the filling cabinet behind him. "Don't know yet. I assume my superiors want us to wait until they have new orders for us. Either that, or we go after the next cell on our own orders." He then took a red marker and stroked out an entire page. He then handed it to Klause. "One more for the record, Colonel." Klause took the page and looked at it. It was the official report confirming the location of the cell that Garber's unit just destroyed. Klause took the page and held it in his hand. "Ill make sure it reaches the archives, sir. Will that be all?"

"Not yet. I have stuff to do, so I will need you to perform the annual shakedown of our men. Take all violators to the holding cells, and I will deal with them myself." The men under Garber's command sometimes kept the belongings of those they kill and arrest for themselves. Garber, oddly enough, looked down on people who pillaged and looted during missions. If anyone was found to have done so, they would need to be made an example of to the others, which usually resulted in a harsh flogging of the offender. "Now go. Finish your tasks and go home. Your wife probably missed you this last month." Klause got up and saluted Garber, who waved his hand in return. He then opened a program on his computer and began filling out an official report on the destruction of the latest cell.

[Roelandia]

Mike sat on top of the building across the street. He was the only survivor of the cell that was just torn appart by general speares. He had watched in horror how the little girl got shot.
A teardrop rolled down from his cheek. For a brief moment it looked like he was going to give up but after a few seconds he wiped his eyes dry, opened a suitcase he was carrying with him.

The suitcase contained various loose metalic looking parts, in a haste he assembled the device. A huge antimaterial rifle soon became noticable as he attached part after part into a working gun.

He aimed at Speares head, he could hear his heart throbbing. *bong* *bong* *bong*.
He briefly closed his eyes slowly breathed out in order to release his stress before opening his eyes lightnign quick and pulling the trigger.

The bullet flew towards it's target ever so gracefully.
After what appeared to be an eternity the bullet flew past his face, almost scraping his cheek before hitting the pavement just a few meters further.

The sound of the shot still resonated throughout the neighborhood.
"damn!" he said. "In my haste I forgot the silencer!" He heard speares barking orders down on the ground. Mike dropped his gun and ran for it, knowing that within minutes his postion would be surrounded and the judicial police would have 'birds' in the air.
He leapt from roof to roof, grabing rain pipes to climb higher and using laundry lines as a zipline down to lower roofs.

He was lucky, he managed to elude the encirclement attempt by the troops on the ground.
His only hope was to find shelter at another cell. He knew one downtown where he might be safe. It was his only chance.

After a few hourses of free running and hiding from helicopters he finally made it. "The chumps! He thought by himself. They didn't even get close to me! Self confident he entered the building through a window on the roof. As he walked down the stairs he greeted the cell's local leaders.

"Hey guys" He said in a tired manner, he was still struggling with the thougth of a little girl getting shot by Speares and that train of thought carried over into the weight of his voice. "Hey, Mike! What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at location A?" Mike looked away with sorrow in his eyes "Location A has been compromised, they're all dead, except for me." The other ressistance fighters looked shocked. "Are you sure? No one survived?". "As sure as I can be, unfortunatly". The expression of defeat was clearly visible on everyone's faces when Mike broke the news. "That's horrible... Damn police! We should plan a counteratta....Mike...What's that on the back of your coat?"
A small red light, almost invisible to the naked eye blinked in a regular pattern. Mike tried to see it by turning his head but couldn't. "Hold still!" on of his ressistance comrades said before inspecting it a little closer. It was a small metal cylinder with an adhesive bottom. The ressistance members opened their eyes wide. "It's a police transmitter! You lead them straight here, you fool! Everyone prepare for..." An explosion was heard downstairs, forcing the door open to the ressistance hideout. Activity inside the buidling suddenly skyrocketed, ressistance members grabbed their weapons to try and mount a desperate defence. Mike took off his coat, threw in the ground and destroyed the sensor by stepping onit. "So this is why I got here so easily, they were tagging me. You fool! How could I be so arrogant as to think I lost them that easily!" Mike thought by himself, his mind riddled with self doubt and guilt. He didn't get the chance to wallow in self pitty for too long though. T he leader of the ressistance cell came up to him and pushed a key into his hands. "Listen to me carefully! there is a passage in the cellar, get there before they overrun us, you can escape through there if you're fast. When you cross the hall you'll notice a laptop. Take out the flash drive and take it with you. Also destroy the laptop once you have done so. This is very important' Mike replied anxiously "I can't just leave you here, I caused this I got to fix it. perhaps we can all take the passage!" The cell leader interrupted him. "There is no time to argue, we have to stall them and buy you time or they'll overrun us and get their hands on the flash drive. We can't let that happen. Do you understand me?" Mike reluctantly nodded and went down to fetch the flash drive. As he moved through the house bullets flew around him. One grazed him on his palm giving him a hideous scar on his hand that bleeded heavily. In a glimpse he thought he recognized Sepp Garber, an infamous general of the Judicial police.

He got a hold of the drive and destroyed the computer by shooting it with the gun he took from a dead comrade and went down to cellar where he opened the passage.
A long smelly corridor lay before him. He locked the door behind him which was masqueraded as a piece of wall and started running, dissapearing into the sewer system of the city...

[Inprobus]

The bullet whizzed past Speares' face. For a brief instant, a dazed look fell over him. He was actually surprised. Something he was not accustomed to. But to show weakness? Speares? Never. The look quickly faded and was replaced with a dark sarcasm. Something he was comfortable with. A grin crept onto his face. Another failed assassination attempt on his life. He quickly turned around and looked at Ruth, who was still crying over his daughter's body.

"Well... that was exhilarating!" Speares exclaimed. But sarcasm quickly was overcome with anger. "Get him out of here!" A guard handcuffed him and dragged him away from his daughter. Speares looked at the direction of the shot fired and could see a shadow running in the distance. Speares raced to the window and looked at his other soldiers. "Get men on the roof! I want drones... in the air... now!" He then looked to his other soldier. "And get that... thing... and burn it." He said pointing to the body of the daughter.

Nearby, standard Imperial Patrol Drones flew into the area of interest, their low buzzing hum from the propellers as they whisked around searching for the terrorist. They were pale gray, which their eerie buzzing hum would occasionally fade to the load booming of the nearby telescreens hanging from the sides of buildings, featuring people talking about why Inprobus was a great place.

"We have him on visual. He is in grid 423. Bearing 40 degrees North, 53 degrees East from your location, General." A drone operator stated.

"Tag him and follow him, but do not engage him." Speares waved his hand dismissively. "I think Garber is in that area. Send him to intercept when the perpetrator gets back to his cell. And tell Garber not to kill the perpetrator and bring him to me. I want to look that bastard in the eye when I kill him."

Speares rarely showed anger or rage. He found those qualities to be beneath him. However he was not used to being taken off guard. The world was like a chess game to him, everything was always planned out, but when he was one-upped it was personal and all bets were off.

---

Speares and his men arrived at a Judicial Police office. "Where the hell is Weber?" He rolled his eyes, annoyed at her seemingly lack of enthusiasm. "Take Ruth to the interrogation ward. I will personally question the perpetrator. Let him be reunited with his daughter while he waits for me. Give him the jar of his daughter's ashes."

Speares reached for his phone and called Garber. "I have received word that you destroyed the resistance cell. Did you catch the man who lead you to it? Did you recover the flash drive? We searched Ruth's place and it was not found. This must mean that the cell you crushed had it."

[Nickel Empire]

"Thanks, come again," Eric South said as the most recent costumer left his shop. He wrote down what items he just sold and how much were left in stock. When he was done with that, he lit up a Victory Cigarette before checking the time. "10:00 p.m." Eric thought to himself. "What a slow night it has been. I have only had five customers since I opened the shop at 8. Usually I would have had fifth teen by now."

Eric picked up the paper he had been reading on and off throughout the night. When he looked back up at the clock it was now 10:30. "Damn, what is with people today? I swear if nobody else comes in here by 11:00 I'm going to close early. I hope there is an important reason why nobody has been coming to my shop. I wonder...if it has anything to do with those resistance cells being destroyed as of late? If anything this would be a good time to launch a counter-strike against the Judicial Police as they are probably overconfident of their success. However, how can I give my thoughts and feelings as my local resistance cell hasn't said anything to me in over a month!?" Eric put down the paper and walked over to the shop entrance to see if anybody was coming. No one in sight. "Pfft, might as well go through the rest of inventory then."

[Ganeba]

Nicholas silently cursed inside his head - was he too late? It was night now - after a rather uneventful day at work, he had chosen to meet with one of his fellow resistance members from his cell. The bad news he had received today was disheartening - the Judicial Police had raided and destroyed several cells. Most of them would be captured, and either brainwashed or executed. It had been over a month since he had been in any sort of contact with the Resistance - there was no guarantee that it hadn't been compromised.

Having avoided taking any sort of public transportation where he could easily be tracked or seen, Nicholas had gone to great pains to avoid attracting any suspicion. He had informed his wife that he would be home late, thanks to work. Since the shop was in a rather secluded place, Kassen didn't have to worry about being seen by any of his colleagues, friends, or family.

As he approached the shop from a distance, he hoped that it hadn't closed, or the Inprobusian police hadn't gotten to the cell first. Was it one of the cells destroyed during the raids, and he just wasn't aware of it? Doubt clouded his mind. It wouldn't be good for him if the police were involved, even if he wasn't implicated in being involved in the resistance. It still wasn't too late to turn back, but, against his better judgement, Kassen continued on. He watched as a figure, hard to discern in the darkness, left the shop. It wasn't closed, but there didn't seem to be any sign of the Judicial Police.

Hearing the familiar clanging of chimes as Kassen opened the door that lead into the shop. No one seemed to be there. Maybe he was in the back, Kassen thought as he started to browse the shop's goods, waiting for him to come.

[Galbeon]

Klause entered the room, and was immediately shushed by Garber, who was on the phone with Speares. "While we did make sure we had heavy surveillance around the area during the assault, it would seem as if the bastard got away from us. We suspect that he might of entered a tunnel or the sewers as the drones and snipers didn't see him. We know he has the flash drive, however. Just before we completely burned the place, we recovered a laptop with a bullet hole in it. The only good it does us is informing us that it held something useful on it. And the contents of the laptop are most likely on that drive. I have a small unit of men continuing to search the area, though I fear it is too late." He paused. "While my men look for him, what do you require of me?"

[Vernicht]

Margery Reistad marched down the dull city streets, in tune with the rest of the Inprobusian citizens. She wore grey clothes, with a drab backpack slung across her shoulders. It was daytime, and the sidewalk was bustling with workers and soldiers and party officials. The propaganda screens blared their messages from their elevated positions, rambling on about some resistance cell being utterly obliterated. A few people stopped and cheered as the heavy voices listed the absolute victories; complete destruction of the dissidence, no casualties to the glorious Judicial Police. That sort of thing.

Margery didn't know if she believed it or not, but she stopped to silently clap for her government a few times. It was safer to do that sort of thing, with all the drones buzzing overhead watching the pedestrians. Margery's hands were dirty, her hair was messily pulled back, and her grey clothes were smudged with grease. She had just come from her work at the munitions factory, from the early shift that she had taken with pleasure. She didn't sleep much anyway, and it was nice to do something with her hands. Now, it was a question of what to do with the rest of her day. Curfew would be upon the city soon, but she still had about four hours. Four hours to do what?

She couldn't go back to her favourite hiding place. It was day and the drones were following workers leaving their workstations. She didn't want to go home just yet, walking in circles in her boring home and listening to the repeating broadcasts was incredibly dull. She wanted to go someplace dark, where she could think for a while.

She paused in the street, looking up at a propaganda screen while she thought for a while. She knew a place, somewhere she hadn't been in a while. It was best to circulate her hiding places, so that the police never found everything at once. Sepp Garber, that Speares fellow. All the dissenters spoke of them like they were gods in their own right, as powerful and cruel as some pagan deity of war. Margery didn't quite care. She had taken great care to keep herself out of any major rebel activity, and preferred to sleep in the monitored houses. It was better to hide in sight of the government and play their games, rather than some fools that tried to live hidden in the bowels of the city, only to be tracked down like dogs.

She took a turn, careful to keep facing forward. Looking behind you would be rather suspicious, would it not? She was confident that she would hear if anyone was following her. She continued to walk through the narrow alley, kicking aside some papers as she reached her destination. She paused, turning her head ever so slighty to check if she was alone before sliding into the cracked storm drain.

Other than the mild sunlight filtering through the entrance to the ruined drain, the tunnels were dark. The smell wasn't incredibly enjoyable, but it was a small price to pay for some solitude. She began to walk in the tunnels, her delicate hand tracing the wet concrete walls so she didn't fall into the sewage. When the darkness became complete, she sat down. She took off her bag, setting it in between her legs and opening it. There was another set of clothes inside it, a change so that she wouldn't look filthy coming out of the drain, and a few metal pieces that she had stolen from her work. She set them on the ground, all in line, and closed her eyes.

She didn't care that she was in a sewer. She was alone. Truly alone. The greatest feeling in the world.

[Nickel Empire]

Eric was in the back of the shop doing inventory when he heard the shop's door open. He immediately put down the pen and paper and went out to go greet the customer. "Finally, another customer! I guess I won't be closing up early after all. One more hour away from my loud household." Eric thought to himself with a smile. When he entered the main area of the shop and saw who the man was looking at the goods the smile immediately dropped from his face.

"Oh, it's only you." Eric said with disappointed that was as clear as the night sky. He wasn't doing it to be mean, he was just genuinely disappointed that he didn't get a customer. His face then perked up, as that means there would finally be some action going on, or at the very least on update of what was happening and what the next course of action should be. Before speaking again Eric lit up another Victory Cigarette. "So I'm guessing you're here because of the recent resistance cells that have been destroyed?" Eric said with more cheer in his voice before taking a puff on the cigarette. "I think it's time now that we finally take a stand against the Inprobus Empire."

[Inprobus]

Speares nodded his head at Garber's comments, but was disappointed at his inability to catch the criminal. "Come to the Judicial Police Office 249. I am preparing to interrogate the resistance cell leader, Ruth. We should begin to coordinate our efforts. I will be ordering this city to establish checkpoints on all major streets and double the drones and men in the area. We will catch him and make an example out of him, like the rebel scum that he is."

[Roelandia]

Mike stumbled through the sewers, still bleeding heavily from the wound he suffered on his hand. The longer he walked the paler he became from the continuous bloodloss. "If I don't do something I might catch an infection in this hellhole!" he thought. He stopped briefly, tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and bandaged the wound with it. Although it didn't help much, the feeling of it being bandaged was enough to give him some extra strength.
As he continued on he reached into his pocket and got out the flash drive. "Now what could be on it that was so important?" he wondered. He took his smartphone (a hacked model with a physically removed antenna, purely meant for pocket computing purposes. A way of repurposing empire consumer electronics for use by the rebels without being tracked down.), still continuing onward he plugged the flash drive into his USB on the go slot.
An hourglass appeared on the screen, quickly twirling when it read the drive. His screen flashed red and text appeared on it. *input password*.
Mike closed his eyes briefly. "Off course the drive is password protected." He thought. As far as he knew he had three chances to get it right. Get it wrong three times and the drive will fry itself.
He carefully removed the drive (knowing that that couldn't do any harm to it) and put both his phone and the drive back into his pocket.

He didn't know where to go, he could go on for ages yet turning up at just any manthole could give him away if he walked into a patrol. Before he could answer his dillema though he started feeling dizzy. He was unsure whether it was the wound on his hand that caused it, the semi-toxic atmosphere in the sewers or some combination of the two. "I have to get upstairs" he thought "Or I'm going to die!" He clamped himself onto a ladder leading to a manhole out of the sewers but found that he no longer had the strength to climb it. As he fell to the ground and his vision got blurry he saw a vague figure approaching him. The figure looked female judging from the height and the shape but before he could react to the figure's appearance he passed out on the floor of the sewer.

[Vernicht]

Margery frowned, staring at the unconscious man she had caught in the sewer. When she saw him wavering at the ladder, sinking to the ground, and slowly closing his eyes. She walked over, crouched over the man, nudging him with her boot as she looked him over. His shirt was torn and dirty, and his hand was wrapped with some red fabric - no, bloody fabric. He was cut. It looked bad. She impulsively grabbed the hand, placing it on his chest so that it wouldn't scrape against the filthy floor.

Margery clicked her tongue with annoyance, looking around to see if this man had come alone. She slid his body against the wall, hearing a slight groan as she did. A bolt of fear went through her, and she froze for a few moments. The man did not wake. Margery breathed out, walking away from the body and continuing down the path that the man had come. Blood, that was the most striking thing. Drops of it everywhere, leading straight to her. She made an annoyed sound again, briskly walking back over to the unconscious stranger. She could just drown him, right here. She should drown him. Bringing him to her safe places would be a difficult task, and he was probably marked for death already. Trackers or drones or soldiers coming after him, right at this moment. All her careful planning and deliberation - swept away by this idiot! She kicked his body lightly, regretting it immediately. He couldn't wake up - he was stronger than she was, and he could easily take her hostage or something.

She slung her backpack off her shoulder, rummaging through it while she kept an eye on her new acquaintance. She removed her spare shirt, and began tearing it into several pieces, sighing as she did. She took off the bloody bit of his own shirt, replacing it with a clean one. The cut didn't look incredibly deep, and she could probably clean it once she brought him to her safe place. She could lock him in a cupboard or something... No! She should just leave him here, leave him to his fate. That would be the safe thing, the better thing.

Margery sighed. She had already decided to bring him home, even if some parts of her brain seemed to be disagreeing with her. The woman formed the rest of her spare clothes into a sort of sling that would keep the damaged hand close to his chest, and began to drag him down the sewer. She reached her cracked storm drain some time later, and rested for a short while. Margery slumped the stranger into a sitting position, holding out a finger and silently telling him to stay.

She slowly progressed down the way she had came, cleaning the trail of blood from the concrete with one of her socks as she went. She finally reached the manhole where he had collapsed, and wiped her bloody sock on every other one of the rungs leading up to the street. It would look like he had climbed the ladder, that was the idea. She glanced down at the foreboding darkness where the man had come running from, wondering what exactly he'd done. She would know soon enough, when she had him in her safe place and she could question him.

She ran back to where she had left him, and sure enough, he was still there. Unconscious. She smiled, patting him on the head in approval of his loyalty. She struggled to pick him up - he was heavy, and she wasn't much in the way of strength. Eventually, she got him out of the storm drain, and onto the black street of the dark alley. It was night now, and it would be easily to get her new friend back to her safe place.

She dragged him down the alleys and backways, navigating the city silently and quickly. Several times she had to leave her friend in some dumpster or hole while she scouted the road ahead, and several times she had hid with him while police drones passed overhead. Hours later, she arrived at her safe place. Her home was small, but that was part of the beauty of it. It was small and bland and nondescript, and she was confident that it attracted no attention.

She opened the door and let the new man spill to the floor. She fell as well, laying a few feet beside him and watching his chest rise and fall slowly. Her arms were terribly sore from dragging him all this way, but it was worth it. He was an interesting one. He had moved many times during their journey, but he had not woken.

She stood, closing the thin wooden door and locking it. Margery got changed quickly, leaving her friend sprawled on the front entrance as she did. She dragged him to the kitchen, setting him up on one of the chairs. She checked him for weapons, patting his pockets and shirt carefully to make sure he didn't have a knife or a gun. She found a phone and some sort of USB drive, and set them on the table in front of her friend. She began to tie his arms together with some spare rope, but stopped herself.

No, She thought. I'm going to be a nice girl and he will be grateful that I was so kind. We'll talk when he wakes up, and I'll have cleaned his hurting and saved him. He'll like me, I know it.

Margery sat down on the chair opposite to her new friend, watching him sleep. She would clean his wound in a few minutes, but she'd prefer him to be awake for it. For now, she was content to just stare with wide eyes.

[Ganeba]

Kassen nodded and smiled at the man, ignoring his obvious disappointment. As he lit up a cigarette, Nicholas winced. He hated the smell, but it would be out of his place to berate him inside of his own store. Instead, he ignored it, and listened.

His eagerness was certainly refreshing, although it was naive. Nicholas envied him for speaking so freely - being a Prole, he was never monitored as closely as Party and government officials.

"Yes," Nicholas admitted, "That's part of the reason for why I'm here. I just wanted to make sure we weren't one of the cells destroyed."

"And your guess on them is as good as mine. They never tell me anything. It doesn't look like we knew those cells, so I don't think it puts us in any danger." Even though he was an official in the Bureau of People, he was kept as clueless as most of the populace. When the Judicial Police broadcasted their recent victories, they kept details on it as light as possible.

"Regardless, I don't think we're ready. We need more people. We need things to defend ourselves with. Have you heard from the rest of your family?" Referring to the rest of the cell, Kassen was almost certain that they weren't being spied upon. It helped to be cautious, though, hoping the shop owner would get the hint. He spoke carelessly, something that could endanger the cell later on.

[Galbeon]

Garber arrived at Judicial Police Office 249, and almost immediately found Speares. "Alright, sir. Where should we begin on our grand endeavour?"

[Inprobus]

Speares entered into the room and stared at Ruth in the eyes. There was silence, nothing but Speares' cold stare at Ruth which almost seemed like an eternity to Ruth. Speares preferred to lurk in the shadows, but his ungodly beam projected directly at Ruth as if some heavy weight laid uncomfortably on his chest. Ruth started to squirm vainly from the feeling, as he was handcuffed to the seat.

Finally Speares spoke up, "I am glad to see your daughter and you have been reacquainted." He smirked, pointing directly at the ashes in the jar laying beside him.

Ruth tried to reduce the tears from his most recent loss. The Empire had taken everything from him, but he swore that it would not take his dignity. "You're a monster. And one of these days fortune will not be on your side. I will say nothing. My daughter's death was a liberation to me. Now I know that she can no longer be tortured by you and the Party. She's ironically better off."

Speares shook his head and gave a condescending smirk. His cold eyes turned to a compassionate gaze. It almost seemed like Speares was touched, which gave him and the room an even more eerie feel. "Inprobus loves you. And it wants to see you become better. You see Mr. Ruth, you are sick. And like any caring government, we are going to make you healthy again."

"I am healthy" He spit out in disgust, beginning to squirm vainly again.

Speares walked over to a flickering red button. "Bring her in." A guard dragged a disfigured woman into the room. She appeared to be missing an eye, bruised with red marks all over her body. "Her name is Jennifer. You remember her? She was your second in your resistance cell." He leaned over to the soldier "Get ready to fire".

"No!"

Speares got close to Ruth, his mouth right next to Ruth's ear. "You have the power to save her. Just tell us what we want to know. And she can live in peace."

"What ever they do to you, don't tell them anything!" She screamed in pain.

"You can save her." Speares continued.

"I'm sorry." He cried out.

Speares waved his hand, signalling for the guard to kill her. Her blood splashed onto Ruth's face.

"Get her out of here." He said, almost routinely. "Are you aware of Ganeban water torture, Mr. Ruth? They say it is a process in which water is slowly dripped onto one's head, eventually driving them insane. This is the first time I have ever done this, so I'm not sure how well its going to work. Consider this a... dry run." He laughed and nudged Ruth. "I'm a funny man, Mr. Ruth, aren't I?" Ruth didn't answer. A guard pulled the back of the chair downward, turning it into a table in which Ruth was now laying. "Take him to Room 101." The guards nodded and wheeled him out.

The guards took him to Room 92, where Speares was already waiting, with the torture equipment was already prepared. "Glad you could make it, Mr. Ruth."

Ruth, who was still dazed at Jennifer's death, looked around puzzled. "You said Room 101?"

"This is Room 101, Mr Ruth. I told you, you are sick. You are hallucinating."

He shook his head confused. "No this is not 101".

"Yes, it is Mr. Ruth." Speares wheeled him directly underneath the Ganeban water torture equipment. "Lt. Davis, please assist me in the operation."

"Of course, General." She said, pacing slowly towards Ruth.

He knew that voice. He leaned over and looked at Lt. Davis. It was Jennifer? "No. You're dead! I saw it!" He screamed out, tearing up.

Jennifer had no longer any bruises or scars, and was dressed in the looming slick black Judicial Police uniform. "I'm not dead, Mr. Ruth." She said softly. "I'm still here."

"You are my friend."

"No, Mr. Ruth. I am not." She replied, reaching for the knob to allow the water to slowly drop on his head.

"You are my friend. I saw you dead. I'm sorry." He repeated to himself.

Speares leaned over to Davis, "He'll be broken in no time."

---

A guard wheeled the torture equipment out of the room, followed by Lt. Davis who wheeled Jason Ruth out of the room in which he was singing the national anthem "Inprobus Loves You".

Speares paced out of the room looking for Garber. "I have the information I needed. The person who escaped you is known as "white knight". This is not his real name of course, but rather a code. He seems like a smart man, watch him. In addition, there are currently three cells operating in the district. Two have been destroyed by us, and I have learned of the third and its location. This existing cell seems to be operating in Grid 42. I want you to intercept them and destroy. Leave no survivors. I will stay here and continue working with Ruth. We can then coordinate our search together for this elusive flash drive."

---

ATTENTION! ATTENTION! THIS IS AN IMPORTANT MESSAGE FROM THE PARTY! An announcement could be heard echoing through the air, resonating in every building. All telescreens displayed this message, playing one of the many Inprobusian nationalistic songs over the speakers. It suddenly became quieter, and a recognizable face came onto the screen. It was none other than Jason Ruth. His scarring had been covered by makeup for this interview. "I am proud to announce that I have been cured from my illness. I used to be a deviant. But the Empire has cured me. They want me to tell everyone who is opposing the Grand Inprobus Empire, that there is no reason to spread hate and fear. The government truly wants what is best for us, and it is our responsibility to serve the government and the Empire. I know many of you already know this, but it took me longer time to realize this, and I want to say I am sorry. For everyone who is still sick. Please come back! We miss you! And we want to help you!"

[Galbeon]

Garber smiled as he saw Ruth being wheeled out of the room. "Ah, yes. How I do so love the psychological games we play. Of course, I prefer a little more violence in my methods. Anyway, I will dispatch my forces to Grid 42. We will make sure that none make it out alive. Any other requests?"

[Inprobus]

Speares scowled at Garber's comment of how he loved to torture people. Speares may have been a cruel, calculating, power-hungry individual, but he wasn't sadistic. "Just remember that the Emperor does not like failure. So see to it you get everyone this time, hmm?" Speares turned around and marched off in the direction Ruth was carted.

[Galbeon]

Garber nodded, and watched Speares walk away before leaving as well. Klause waited for him outside, standing next to an armoured vehicle. "Where to, sir?" he asked. "Grid 42. Get the men over there now. Seal off the entire area, and have patrols put in the sewers. Have some men bring flamethrowers. We will burn everything to the ground." Both men entered the vehicle, before it speed off to Grid 42 to meet up with the men.

[Nickel Empire]

After taking a puff on his cigarette, Eric stamped it out in his ashtray. He was a little annoyed that this person couldn't take the smell, though he didn't want to make this gentlemen feel uncomfortable. Besides, his wife lambasted him for smoking too much, so if any time was good to reduce his cigarette consumption now was the time.

Eric noticed right off the bat that the man was speaking kind of differently, like in code. Since Eric was under the government's radar along with others of his kind, he didn't feel the need to talk in code, though since his words could become trouble later on, he decided to take this man's hint.

"No, our 'shop' wasn't closed, though possibly some of the 'family' could have been involved with those 'closures'." Eric responded to Nicholas about the cells. He wondered if he was laying on the code words a little thick. "And no, I haven't heard from the rest of the 'family'. Truthly I have been kind of despairing, thinking that the upper levels have disbanded the shop due to what little information we get. "

"And since we can't connect to the upper levels, it sounds like we might need to do some job interviewing ourselves if we want to become ready. My supply connections could probably find us some 'tools' to help us become ready."

Eric then moved behind to the counter where he had a mini-fridge and promptly opened it. "Can I interest you in anything, such as a beverage or food, before this conversation goes any further?"

[Ganeba]

If anyone was secretly listening into their conversation, it was painfully obvious that they were speaking in code. Nicholas noticed that the man wasn't very subtle, but, like with the cigarettes, he didn't point it out. He doubted they were under surveillance - after all, why would the police have any business here? Even so, he still harbored a private sense of unease. The fact that the man hadn't heard from the rest of the cell only exacerbated his anxieties.

He couldn't help but get his hopes up as he heard about the man's connections. Maybe the struggle wasn't as hopeless and lopsided as he thought - any weapon - anything that they could use to resist the Inprobusian Empire would be a victory on their part. Nicholas knew it wouldn't be that easy - surely the police would be cracking down on this sort of thing.

"A glass of water is fine," He said, replying to the man's offer, "but I'd like to talk more about your, er, connections..."