14-01-2004, 05:17
Mike Suolov shivered. It was a cold, rainy day, and quite possibly the last day of his life.
He was sitting near the back of one of the school buses his organization had bought and remodeled. Now, instead of yellow paint, they had the gray-and-white camo of the Seditionist Alliance, and instead of side windows, they had gun racks with sliding doors.
The buses looked an odd sight as they traveled through the Beraagi capital city of New Ushuaia. There was no law preventing wackos from driving camo buses through a busy city, so they were free to travel, but they were about to tick off a lot of police... not to mention National Guardsmen, SWAT police, and quite possibly the Beraagi Army.
The buses parked in front of the Capitol, a grand, imposing stone building. Electronic impulses popped the locks on the side racks, and the modified rear escape doors folded into ramps at the backs of the buses.
Mike found himself standing, almost absent-mindedly, and being jostled out of the bus. He walked over to the starboard rack and pulled out "his" assault rifle. Why am I doing this? he wondered. With half a mind to run away, and not thinking about his walk much, he wandered with the other SA troopers to the front doors. A security guard was trying to stop them. That's stupid, Mike thought, with the haze of one whose mind is trying at all costs to stop them. He could get hurt...
A machine-gun burst broke him out of his reverie. The guard stayed upright for a few seconds, then slumped down, his chest a gory mess.
All of a sudden Mike's mind was clear. He looked in horror at his camo suit, his military-surplus assault rifle, his SA badge sewed above the Beraagi flag on the left shoulder of his uniform. I'm one of them, he thought with horror. It's too late to turn back now...
He ran through the lobby with the rest of his squad, heading for the stairs. They burst through the doors and ran to the upper floor of the main room, fanning out on the balcony overlooking the President, Vice President, Speaker of the House, and the entire Congress.
Mike could already see two of the other squads, with the SA leaders in charge, running through the aisles, hundreds of stunned-looking politicians too shocked to say anything. The mastermind, a burly man with a bristly mustache, fired his gun in the air. "Everybody down!" he yelled.
Everybody fell to the floor. The mastermind started shouting, a speech that he had probably rehearsed, about how bad Beraag's government was and how changes were about to be made. He also told about how if the Confederated States wanted their officials back, a huge sum of money would first have to be deposited in a private bank in Mexico.
Mike shivered, despite the warm room and recent exertion. It was, indeed, too late...
NETFEED/NEWS: Beraag In Crisis
Voiceover, Capitol in New Ushuaia surrounded by National Guard
"In an apparently unprovoked attack, a group of terrorists have taken the entire Congress of Beraag as well as the President hostage. They are demanding government change, but they mostly seem to want money."
Visual, angry SA leader
"We want change! These dictators you see before you have oppressed Beraag for too many years! The SA is only the tip of the iceberg of oppressed citizens, and the only ones taking action! We will, though it wrench at our hearts, set free the dictators if a sum no less than fifty billion kalin, pocket change by Beraagi standards, to the SA account in Mexico. But I do not think the people will want that! No, I think they want us to put these dogs from their misery and provide them with a new, better government!"
Voice fades, newscaster breaks in
"Perhaps the most surprising thing about the whole incident is the support springing up around the country. Hundreds of small militia groups claiming allegiance to the SA have released statements of support on the Internet..."
He was sitting near the back of one of the school buses his organization had bought and remodeled. Now, instead of yellow paint, they had the gray-and-white camo of the Seditionist Alliance, and instead of side windows, they had gun racks with sliding doors.
The buses looked an odd sight as they traveled through the Beraagi capital city of New Ushuaia. There was no law preventing wackos from driving camo buses through a busy city, so they were free to travel, but they were about to tick off a lot of police... not to mention National Guardsmen, SWAT police, and quite possibly the Beraagi Army.
The buses parked in front of the Capitol, a grand, imposing stone building. Electronic impulses popped the locks on the side racks, and the modified rear escape doors folded into ramps at the backs of the buses.
Mike found himself standing, almost absent-mindedly, and being jostled out of the bus. He walked over to the starboard rack and pulled out "his" assault rifle. Why am I doing this? he wondered. With half a mind to run away, and not thinking about his walk much, he wandered with the other SA troopers to the front doors. A security guard was trying to stop them. That's stupid, Mike thought, with the haze of one whose mind is trying at all costs to stop them. He could get hurt...
A machine-gun burst broke him out of his reverie. The guard stayed upright for a few seconds, then slumped down, his chest a gory mess.
All of a sudden Mike's mind was clear. He looked in horror at his camo suit, his military-surplus assault rifle, his SA badge sewed above the Beraagi flag on the left shoulder of his uniform. I'm one of them, he thought with horror. It's too late to turn back now...
He ran through the lobby with the rest of his squad, heading for the stairs. They burst through the doors and ran to the upper floor of the main room, fanning out on the balcony overlooking the President, Vice President, Speaker of the House, and the entire Congress.
Mike could already see two of the other squads, with the SA leaders in charge, running through the aisles, hundreds of stunned-looking politicians too shocked to say anything. The mastermind, a burly man with a bristly mustache, fired his gun in the air. "Everybody down!" he yelled.
Everybody fell to the floor. The mastermind started shouting, a speech that he had probably rehearsed, about how bad Beraag's government was and how changes were about to be made. He also told about how if the Confederated States wanted their officials back, a huge sum of money would first have to be deposited in a private bank in Mexico.
Mike shivered, despite the warm room and recent exertion. It was, indeed, too late...
NETFEED/NEWS: Beraag In Crisis
Voiceover, Capitol in New Ushuaia surrounded by National Guard
"In an apparently unprovoked attack, a group of terrorists have taken the entire Congress of Beraag as well as the President hostage. They are demanding government change, but they mostly seem to want money."
Visual, angry SA leader
"We want change! These dictators you see before you have oppressed Beraag for too many years! The SA is only the tip of the iceberg of oppressed citizens, and the only ones taking action! We will, though it wrench at our hearts, set free the dictators if a sum no less than fifty billion kalin, pocket change by Beraagi standards, to the SA account in Mexico. But I do not think the people will want that! No, I think they want us to put these dogs from their misery and provide them with a new, better government!"
Voice fades, newscaster breaks in
"Perhaps the most surprising thing about the whole incident is the support springing up around the country. Hundreds of small militia groups claiming allegiance to the SA have released statements of support on the Internet..."