His electronics do other checks as well, including comms check and whether other functions of the Kinetic Warrior Suit are properly working, informing him that everything is in good shape. Satisfied with what he sees, he retracts his shield. He activates the mask part of his helmet and it materializes over his face. He walks out, being the last to do so.
As he walks away, the doors behind him close and the train takes off. He makes his way to the stairwell, climbing it slowly. His helmet hides his stern face, the look of someone seeking vengeance. Yet, his dull eyes undermine his seriousness, enervating and weakening his authority as a captain. It is for this reason he always hides his eyes, believing he’ll show weakness and pity.
“So, what’s the plan, Captain?” asks someone as he comes to a stop at the top of the stairs.
“Give them hell,” he says in a firm voice. “Bleu One, Savior here; what’s the situation above?”
“The situation is dire! We- We need assistance now!”
The man is short of breath. He is in a state of terror as the Neo-Demokrists wreak havoc above.
“Copy that, we’ll be there shortly…”
His mind drifts back to Argus. Despite the dangers that loom in the city, his mind is too busy focusing on his childhood memories, memories that have Argus in them. It has become impossible for him to focus on anything since his old friend’s death, causing Aceso to make rash decisions that have infuriated his superiors, including Marcus.
“Captain Aceso?”
Aceso stares off into the distance. His mind is reminiscing about one time he and Argus were in the Krenma, where they would spar on a constant basis. It was in their competitive nature to show who was the best, who was the stronger of the two. Yet, in every single sparring match, Aceso won, embarrassing the young Argus. Despite losing every time, however, Argus would challenge him again, hoping to defeat his rival and friend.
“Captain Aceso!”
Aceso jerks his head. The sound of the shrill voice snaps him out of his daydream. Now is not the time to think about Argus. He has a mission and that is to stop the protest from escalating to a full-blown burndown of the city.
“Bleu One, Savior is coming out. Pull back now. We got this.”
“Roger that, Savior. Stand down, 2-41. Pull back.”
The weary officer orders the others to pull back. They flee to safety and the Neo-Demokrists see weakness. Growing confident that they’ll achieve their goals, they push forward, hoping to strike fear into their startled enemy. To them, the cops have given up and a sense of victory takes control of the rioters’ minds.
One young, tall blonde-haired man backs up, however. He knows why the police are pulling back. He is aware that the Brockov are coming, a force they will not be able to defeat. He tries to move to the back, but is pushed forward by his arrogant young friends as they lust for blood. For many, this is their first protest and the adrenaline inside them is running rampant.
As the Neo-Demokrists march forward, Aceso sends a message:
Blue Team is Beta. Go to the left to flank them.
Green Team is Alpha. Follow Me.
The Brockov agents nod as they get into their designated positions. Half will be following Aceso. The other half will take a different route and flank the protestors. The plan is simple: encircle your prey so they can’t escape.
“Everyone in position?”
“Yes Captain.”
“All right, let’s go.”
Aceso directs Beta Team to go left. Beta Team jogs to the left, heading up a flight of stairs. He then motions Alpha Team to follow him as they jog up another flank of stairs, heading towards the entrance of the subway. As they near the top, they can hear the chants of the protestors, the sound of feral animals.
Unfazed by the chanting, Alpha Team jogs forward, heading towards the exit. They step outside, looking for the protestors. In the distance, they can see a large mob of people. Behind them are smoldering buildings they have set ablaze, destroying everything in their path.
Having spotted their target, the Brockov get into formation and form a straight line across the narrow street, forming a black wall. They stand straight, holding their arms to their sides. In their right hands are their electric batons, ready to strike their ignorant foes who are fast approaching. Behind this defensive black wall are several Brockov agents carrying grenade launchers, armed with tear gas and flashbang grenades.
As they get into position, the protestors come to a stop, surprised to see a wall of people standing in front of them. At first, they don’t know what to make of the dark figures that stand in front of them. They originally thought the police were retreating, submitting to them. It’s a feeling of disappointment for the fact they were hoping that their presence would terrify the government. Instead, the government has called in the big guns, making them rethink whether they should challenge them, whether they should run back into the shadows.
Yet, instead of running, they chant loudly, shouting profanity and death to the Empire as they throw rocks and glass bottles. They will not allow this new force to intimidate them or push them back into the darkness.
Seeing the approaching debris, the Brockov raise their left arms out, deploying their shields as rocks and glass bottles pummel them. This is what they have dealt with on multiple occasions, nothing new. In fact, they aren’t fazed by the crowd’s poor attempt at attacking them.
But the young blonde-haired man knows what is coming. He knows that the Brockov is going to encircle them, trapping them as they are beaten to a pulp. While the Brockov’s numbers are miniscule compared to the protestors, they are better equipped and trained, able to handle riots of this magnitude. Slowly, he backs up and moves to the side, looking for an opening. In the corner of his eye, he sees an alleyway that will save his life. He knows his comrades are about to get their asses kicked and he wants no part of that. Quietly, he slips away from the crowd and sneaks to the alleyway.
“Beta Team, begin the encirc- encirclement,” Aceso shouts as he protects himself from the debris.
“Copy that, Savior.”
Beta Team, knowing it’s time for action, moves to their position. As they make their way to their position, the flurry of debris comes to a stop. The rioters have run out of stuff to throw at them.
“Steady. Steady. Hold your ground.”
Aceso raises his baton in the air. The other dark figures follow suit, almost simultaneously raising their batons. With a swing of their batons, they strike their shields. The sound of thunder rumbles through the street as if the marching band has come to town. Rumor has it that the Brockov hit their shields so hard that the noise they produce can be heard miles away, sending fear and confusion into those who are unaware of the circumstances. They bring up their batons and bang their shields again.
“Forward!”
The black wall moves forward as they continue to beat their shields. The intensity of the beating increases as they move closer to the mob, signaling to them to disperse or else. Gradually, they back up, realizing that the government means business.
But their leader fears nothing. Her hair is pink, her cheeks rosy, a red smear on her forehead to symbolize the blood of her fallen comrades. She wields a metal mallet designed to crush skulls and tear apart bodies. She stands still, staring at the approaching dark figures. From the corner of her eye, she sees her comrades are retreating, which infuriates her.
“Do not submit to these aristocrats! We have the numbers! We have the strength! Do not give up on our cause now!”
Her words stun her comrades. For a moment, they feel inspired by her words as a sudden rush of confidence floods into them. Sensing she has got their attention, she unleashes a bloodcurdling scream. She does this several times, hoping to rally her comrades. As she continues to scream, others mimic her, feeling emboldened. She then charges forward as her mindless followers join her.
The Brockov come to a stop, forming a defensive position. A drop of sweat rolls down Aceso’s face and he
embraces himself as the chanting protestors get closer. He leans in slightly, believing he can deflect the oncoming charge.
Then the protestors collide with the Brockov. The sound of crushing bodies and bloodcurdling screams echo out. The first few who make it are now being crushed by their comrades, unable to breathe as they stare into the faceless dark figures.
The pink-haired woman stares at one of these dark figures. Her mallet has slammed into the dark figure’s shield, coming to a dead stop. Aceso has been able to block her predictable attack easily. Yet, what surprises him is the fact that the Brockov’s defensive barrier remains unmoved despite the mounting pressure of the protestors. But they can’t stand still forever.
“PUSH,” Aceso shouts in a long, drawn-out grunt.
The black barrier comes to life, pushing forward as the rioters stumble back, startled by the brute strength of their enemy.
“Give them hell!”
He lifts his baton and strikes the woman’s face, cracking her skull. She falls to the ground, knocked out by the blunt force hit as blood oozes from her nose. She is then joined by others as they fall to the ground.
Undeterred, the protestors charge forward again, hoping to overwhelm the team, seeking vengeance for their fallen leader. Yet, each time they get close, the Brockov strikes them down. Some are stunned by the electric gloves and batons that touch their soft skin, numbing their bodies as the body count grows. The pile of bodies becomes so immense that it becomes difficult for the Brockov to keep their balance.
To regain their composure, the grenadiers launch tear gas and flashbangs to disperse the rioters, to help the Brockov advance. With blood gushing from their scars, and blinded and gasping for air, they retreat as some plead for mercy while others fight back. Their cries and fists are futile as the Brockov continue their merciless assault. Realizing this is an unwinnable battle, they flee.
As they flee, another black wall appears. Like a slithering anaconda, the Brockov squeeze their prey, dealing another round of punishment. Some are able to slip through the cracks given the Brockov can’t contain them all, but most aren’t so fortunate. As the brutal crackdown continues, helicopters record the scenes from above as they witness the excessive use of force, something everyone can see if they are watching the news or on social media.
“Breaking News: A protest turned riot has erupted in the city of Bleu. Reports indicate that the Brockov had been called in to handle the situation. Over the last two weeks, five major protests have erupted into violence. While the Empire has experienced an era of prosperity and liberty, the Neo-Demokrists believe we haven’t reached our full potential, citing the inequalities that government promotes. But is that the case? We now turn to-”
The woman shakes, but ignores what’s happening around her.
“-Salim Mitz, a political studies professor. Good day to have you Salim-”
The woman shakes again as she introduces her guest on the TV.
“Would you stop moving around already, Mr. President? It’s getting on my nerves!”
A woman leans forward, staring at the President, who is reaching for something in the fridge. Every time he moves, he shakes the holographic TV, disturbing the image. All President Dmitri Covasku wants to get is the champagne bottle to refill his glass. To him, the woman’s abrasive edge intimidates him, making him wonder if there is anything that doesn’t annoy women. Standing at 5’9’’, the 48-year-old has well-combed brown hair that is beginning to turn gray at the edges. His brown goatee is full and also has hints of gray, but is trimmed to look professional. He wears shades to protect his eyes from the sun, although the helicopter’s windows are tinted. He pulls the bottle out as he’s being stared down by the woman.
General Scarlet Junimen, the Black Widow, feels like she’s practically babysitting a child. She earned her nickname because she has been responsible for taking away many lives, severing them from their spouses. She is a tall, olive-colored woman, standing at 5’8’’. She has long black hair and mahogany eyes that would deceive those who assumed she is a gentle creature. At the age of 32, she is one of the youngest Krens to hold a leadership position, being the left-hand person for Marcus. She is considered the third best of the Krens, ranking behind Joseph and Marcus. She is assigned to protect the President on this day, a task she despises.
“General Junimen,” Dmitri says as he pulls a champagne bottle from the fridge. “I am trying to enjoy some excellent champagne in this lovely 1,000 Zureu silver lining wine glass. I think you understand where I am coming from? There are only two things that bring me pleasure: my wife and champagne.”
“And not politics?”
“Heavens no, though it makes for good entertainment for the news.”
Dmitri pulls the cork out. He has recently won reelection for the Golden Civics ticket; taking 52% of the vote. The Golden Civics, an Einneristic party, believes in a free market, individual rights, and a non-interventionalist military. His nearest challenger only garnered 27% and that was the Reform Party, followed by the Royal Party at 16%, and The Workers Alliance at 5%[53].
He then pours some champagne into his glass. While he has already celebrated his reelection, today he is celebrating something else. He is returning from the grand induction service of the Empire’s new mega-battleship: ECS[54] Pharaoh. Under a military project called Project X Supreme, a new class of high-tech battleships will be manufactured to show the military might of the Empire. This battleship has four turrets with three 32-inch railguns on each, able to reach over 100 miles. Powered by thorium nuclear energy, this massive ship is surprisingly fast for its size and weight[55].
In an era when large warships seem obsolete, they are the crown jewels for the Zentari powers, serving not only as a symbol of intimidation, but also to show off a nation’s military and economic might. The Empire expects to finish building three more ships by the Year 2061 and four more are planned. The cost of Project X Supreme is expected to be least two and a half trillion Zureus, making it one of the largest investments in the Empire’s history. Of course, the cost has the President worried given it could raise the debt, but he signed off on it anyway even when his own party criticized him.
As the costs run through his head, he overpours, spilling champagne all over himself. The liquid jolts him out of his daydreaming, surprising him. He looks around, wondering who is responsible for soaking his new suit and pants. He sets his eyes on Scarlet as he places the bottle onto the floor, angrily staring at her.
“It was you, wasn’t it,” he says, pointing his finger at Scarlet.
“You got to be joking? You spilled champagne all over yourself. It was your clumsiness and you drifting into la-la land that made you do it.”
“No, no. I am a responsible man here. I don’t do stupid shit like that.”
“Bullshit! I literally saw you spill it all over yourself. Isn’t that right, Joe?”
Scarlet looks at one of the President’s bodyguards. He shrugs, taking a neutral stance on the issue.
“Why do you act the way you do, Mister President? You’re like a five-year-old child I swear! I hope you don’t act like this in front of Marcus.”
Scarlet clenches her hands. Her patience is running thin to the point where she’s ready to beat the crap out of the region’s most powerful leader. Seeing her exasperated face, he senses that he has angered her. Not wanting to come home black and blue, Dmitri knows he needs to calm her down and he has the right thing for that.
“A bit tense are we now? I think I have the remedy for you.”
He reaches down into the fridge again and pulls out a chilled champagne glass, the condensation chilled to the glass.
“Champagne?”
Scarlet looks at him sternly, hesitant on whether she should accept.
“No thanks, I think I am good.”
“Hmm, such a shame. I’ve always liked the effervescent liquid going down my throat. Helps me with my troubles, whether they be mental or physical. It could help you too. Ah well
, you said no so, you miss out now.”
He puts away the glass and bottle. He then reaches for his overfilled glass and takes a sip. In the distance, he can see the battleship and its large guns as it sets off for test runs. He is mesmerized by its beauty and size. Scarlet puts her head into her hands, trying to keep herself calm as she hides her frustration. Only a couple more hours babysitting this fool.
~
“Supreme Commander Huns. Mr. Kuj is ready to see you.”
Marcus looks up. He is at the Zappas Headquarters, an arms manufacturing company located in Gremiph, Barselo where the CEO, Zhas Kuj, has called him about a project regarding the Krenma. The Zappas Corporation specializes in melee weapons, firearms, and armor that the government constantly demands to keep its military well-equipped.
He stands up and makes his way to the sliding door, which slides open, unveiling a long narrow hallway. As he enters the hallway, in the distance, he sees a chubby man staring at his smartwatch. That chubby individual is Zhas Kuj, who looks up and sees Marcus approaching. Seeing his guest has arrived, he walks up to the man, and shakes his hand.
“Supreme Commander?”
“Zhas, it’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has. Come, there is much to discuss.”
Marcus follows Zhas, walking towards the end of the hallway and through a sliding door. As both men walk through the door, they walk onto a snow-white colored balcony, hearing the sound of explosions and gunshots thud in their ears. From this balcony, Marcus can see the workers and machines testing out a variety of weapons, weapons that will be sold to private individuals or nations.
One of the workers looks up. He was testing out a new flamethrower when from the corner of his eye, he saw Zhas and another man walk in. Curious to see who it is, he turns around. As he turns around though, he pulls the trigger, spewing fire everywhere, almost setting everyone around him on fire.
“Try NOT to destroy the facility okay? Geez, and they wonder why businesses have turned to machines.”
Zurkerx- The Empire Shall Grow Page 7