Angus, Crown Realm of Arbustus
28 June 2015
0150 hours
The moonlight casted gleaming white rays over the bleak shadows that covered the dock. The area was deserted, with empty and rusting shipping containers stacked in piles along the wharfs. Abandoned cranes stood over the quays, silently keeping watch, their metal hooks waiting to pick up cargo that would probably never come again. The desolate scene was one of vanished industry and an economy in decline. In the harbor were tethered old container ships and coal freighters that had been in disuse for months; they were rusting, the paint peeling off and flaking into the water below. From behind the control cabin of one such hulking container vessel, however, shone a faint light. It moved quickly, glowing over the deck of the ship and past the shipping containers and cranes in the distance, before flickering out. Replacing it were the sounds of a rope being thrown, metal clanking on metal, and then whispering voices.
"John."
"Wit is it, Andrew?"
"I think that o'er here'll be a quality place tae start dumpin'."
"Aaight, ye twally! Give me a wee bit o' time o'er here."
"Awright, mate."
These two incredibly thick accents were the only ones that could be heard for miles as John MacMullin and Andrew Elliot, two homeless and masked robbers, made their way along the deck of the RHAS Dominion. John, the taller one, had both his hands firmly shoved into his trouser pockets, while Andrew openly carried a pistol. As they walked towards the bow of the ship, he began to hold it in a ready position, the anxiety on his face evident. After another twenty seconds, they had made it past the loading crane and to the metal railings at the point of the bow.
"Now, Johnnie."
"Aye. 'Tis a mense thing we're doing here, aye."
With that crude sentence, John withdrew his hands from his pockets, revealing a pile of sparkling, gleaming white stones in each one. Reflecting the moonlight, they began to shine silver, dazzling the two robbers, who had never seen diamonds prior to that night. Gulping, John gave some to Andrew and they both threw out their hands at once, casting their quarry into the harbor. Hundreds of tiny diamonds scattered as far as they could see in the darkness. As they were about to high-five their success, the night sky behind them was suddenly light up with flashing blue and red. Coming into hearing range, first one, then another, then another, then another, until finally there were too many to be distinguished, were sirens!
Andrew looked at John, the fear in his eyes evident.
"Ye fokin' twally! Scramble!"
The two immediately began to sprint for the other end of the ship as a squadron of police cars and a black van with flashing sirens appeared on the wharfs beyond the bow. Black-clad officers began to disembark, and the robbers' flight was interrupted by a hail of bullets that erupted from behind them and began to slam into the control cabin in front of them, sending shrapnel everywhere. As the two men turned, a blood-curdling scream suddenly erupted from Andrew, and John whipped back around. A bullet had gone through his knee, and he had collapsed to the ground. Blood formed a puddle around his legs as John bent over, trying in vain to give him water. Any attempts to force the liquid down Andrew's throat resulted in coughing and the spurting up of the liquid.
"C'mon, Andrew, it is nae a serious wound," John pleaded.
"Sgith, sgith."
"Being tired will get ye pooched, lad. Now get aff yer arse and start runnin' again!"
Shouldering his friend, John began to limp once more across the deck, panting with every step due to the massively increased effort. He began to hear the clambering of police on ropes up the sides of the ship next to him, and he realized that their was no chance of escaping now. Suddenly, an officer, in full black riot uniform complete with automatic weapon, stood only ten feet away from him. He called out, addressing the two as the "Royal Angus Museum robbers", which the two took offense to. Just as John was about to raise his pistol, which he had taken from Andrew due to the latter's incapacitation, he heard a lone shot ring out. The officer's head jerked back and he dropped his weapon. John squinted; he could just make out a fine red mist appearing behind his helmet. Then, just a fraction of a second after, the officer fell forward onto the ship's deck.
"What the-"
More shots rang out now. One struck the grappling hook of a rope, and it fell back into the harbor, taking several policemen tumbling with it. John pulled himself and Andrew into cover as the unidentified attackers and the police force became engaged in a full-fledged shootout. Now, groups of the attackers were beginning to come around the corners of the control cabin, firing what looked like foreign assault rifles. And were those- were those Jaxonian flags on their arms? My God, they were! They began to yelp their distinctive battle cry as an RPG round sailed through the sky, hitting a parked police van and sending it up in flames with an enormous explosion that took out several other cars as well. Another shot, a pistol shot, could be heard, distinctively closer to John and Andrew than it was before.
Andrew slumped from his sitting position down to the surface of the deck a second after the shot was heard. The gunfire in the distance began to fade out now, receding as the police retreated. John, terrified, turned to look at his friend and saw a gaping wound in his forehead, blood practically pouring over his body and the deck. He screamed, but a hand was clasped over his mouth and he was violently pushed back against the wall of the control cabin, dropping his pistol in the process. John turned to face his assailant.
"Yer a Jaxonian! What dae ye want in Arbustus? There's nothing here tae-"
The man pointed at John. "You had diamonds. The government has diamonds. This country has untapped natural resources in it. Our country is running out. Why do you idiots think the Hallish, may they rest in Hell, colonized you in the first place? You barely have a military. Luckily, you won't live to see the destruction of your country.
John was about to call out for help when the assault rifle in front of him opened fire. Tens of rounds pierced his body, ripping his organs to shreds in mere moments. He slunk downwards, his head dropping as his spine was broken by the gunfire, until finally a round smashed through his skull and killed him. The first two civilian casualties of the war ahead had been inflicted.
Jaxonian Flanagania had, effectively, declared war on Arbustus.
